


Unknown Factors

by joyeuseful



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Author and Beta are bad at tagging, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Don’t copy to another site, Eventual Frostiron, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gamora Deserved Better, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Human Disaster Tony Stark, Humour, I LOVE PLOT, Loki is a big confused, M/M, Multiverse, Natasha deserved better, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Relevant Tags will be excluded but we will warn about anything at the start of a chapter, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Probably going to be 200k, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Stan Lee Cameo, Tags will be added as we think of them, Team Soul Squad, They try to fix it but we don't let them, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is a big sad, Vision deserved better, endgame spoilers, i think, low key angst, pairings to be added as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyeuseful/pseuds/joyeuseful
Summary: A second chance. An opportunity to be better. Four heroes—and one sort of hero, but mostly a pain in the ass—are given a chance to go to a world where their counterparts have died and take their place. Their goal? Collect the Infinity Stones, and, maybe, rebuild their lives.Oh, who are we kidding? This will be a disaster.





	1. Prologue: The One Where The Heroes Are Drowned In Orange

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank my lovely beta Feriswheel for smacking all the commas out of this fic and yelling at me to write and being my idea bouncing board and encouraging me and just being, in general, an amazing human being. I love comma's so delicious. 
> 
> The term yeet will also be used occasionally in this fic. Dabbing was in Endgame and imo Tony would have heard the term yeet and used it non-stop like any dad would. Tony Stark is 100% dad joke material. We all know it.

The world was a pale orange, filled with water gently lapping against his sides. It was all he could hear.

Tony sat up, running his wet fingers through his soaked hair. He had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was Pepper and the kid. A million thoughts were running through his mind, and he could barely keep up as his breath came quicker and quicker.

He had died. That sobering thought shook him out of his impending panic. Oh, that was a big one to come to terms with. The biggest, even bigger than that time he walked in on the Hulk changing.

Tony looked at his right hand. No armour, no stones. What he did have was a scarred arm, the skin burned, covered in raised lines that travelled along his forearm, and likely up to his chest, to where the arc reactor had once been. It had burned, when he used the stones, fire in his veins that moved closer to his heart, killing nerves, the lack of feeling in his arm heralding his oncoming death.

Oof.

There was no pain now, though. He didn’t feel any pain, not even that ever hurting ache from where the arc reactor had been. Climbing to his feet, Tony looked around, seeing nothing in any direction, just sky and water, an infinite horizon.

They had beat Thanos. They had won. Morgan and Pepper were safe; the kid was safe.

Was this the afterlife?

He hadn’t thought about what happened after death for a long time, he couldn’t, not when he had spent the last fifteen years throwing his life on the line. Tony had never been afraid of death; he had been afraid of failure.

Was nothingness his reward for defeating Thanos? Sounded like hell. He at least deserved a jacuzzi for his aching back. Well, not that it ached anymore. On the bright side, he miraculously wasn’t wet anymore.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tony.”

He spun around, raising his hand, even though there was no arc blaster there. There hadn’t been anyone behind him when he had just looked a few seconds ago.

And yet, Natasha stood there. “You did it,” she said, with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.  

Tony stared blankly at her. Her smile was tinged with the sadness that had been on it for years, ever since the Snap. “Nat?”

“The one and only.” She let her hands fall to her side. “I didn’t think you would die. I hoped you wouldn’t.”

The side of his mouth twitched. “I think I could say the same.” Tony licked his lips. “But we did it. We stopped him.” He didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it; it had just happened but it felt so far away like he had been asleep for a week. “Where are we? Are we dead?”

“There’s some debate on that subject, but the general consensus is that we are dead and this is a remnant of the stones.”

Tony’s ears perked up. “Debate? Who?”

She held out her hand, halfway between them. For some reason, he knew that she couldn’t grab him, couldn’t touch him. He needed to reach out to her. There was something about this place that had etched unspoken rules into his very existence.

Tony took her hand, and reality shifted. A slight ripple ran through the air and an arched building appeared behind Nat. The silhouettes of three others were there, looking out towards them.

He recognized two of them. The last one, he had only ever heard of from Nebula, he was pretty sure.

Tony gave them a half-hearted wave, eyed one warily, and turned back to Natasha. “What’s going on?”

“Best guess is that we are inside the Soul Stone. I’ve been alone in here the longest until someone named Ronan the Accuser showed up and left. There wasn’t anyone else for a while until Loki.”

Tony had been watching Loki out of the corner of his eye. Thor had told them that Loki had bargained the Tesseract for Thor’s life, but Tony had had difficulty believing him. “I imagine that’s been a bit on the tense side.”

Natasha shrugged. “It was until I told him about our plan to undo the Snap. He was a bit on the confused side since it hadn’t happened yet.” She flipped her hair to the side. “We had a few more appear, someone called the Collector, and then Gamora showed up, and a bit after, Vision joined.”

It didn’t take a genius, like Tony, to figure out what had been happening. “Everyone here has died because of the Infinity Stones.”

Natasha nodded, her gaze distant. She had been one of the best spies in the world, but even the pain of dying could be seen through her multiple facades. “Our lives were sacrificed for the Stones. The ones who passed through, I think they were just killed by the stones.”

Tony cocked his head to the left. “Did it get really crowded after the Snap?” The scientist in him was dying for answers.

Natasha quirked her lips. “They weren’t really dead. They just ceased to exist.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I don’t. That’s what Vis guessed.” She looped her arm through his. “Come on, Mister Hero, time to say hello to everyone.”

Tony followed a bit nervously, seeing as Nebula had spoken very fondly of Gamora’s skill as a warrior and her ability to beat up arrogant men, and how Loki had yeeted him out of a window after trying to asphyxiate him.

Although, as they walked closer, the water splashing up and giving them a light misting on their faces, he could feel pretty comfortable knowing that Vision would be more than willing to protect him. Good old Vision.

He tried to block out the crushing memory of seeing Vision’s body on the table, the hole in his head, the greyness of his body.

The final death of Jarvis.

He liked Vision for sure. He was nice, thoughtful, the textbook example of lawful good, but the sound of his AI speaking through Vision hurt. It hurt even more after Rhodey was injured.

Vision was a good being, but all the bad things associated with him outweighed the good, and for all of Tony’s efforts, he couldn’t get past his hangups with Vision. Vision didn’t deserve that.

At least Rhodey had forgiven him.

Many things still hurt.

Tony clenched his right hand.

Morgan.

Pepper.

Peter.

They stepped under the awning, and it was pretty much the same underneath as it was outside, but with shade. Still the shades of orange and the never-ending horizon.

“Vision.” Tony nodded at him, leaning up against the wall and looking at Gamora, who watched him with a hunter’s eye, and Loki, who had turned to watch the horizon as if Tony wasn’t important enough for his attention. Rude.

Tony clapped his hands. “So, how are we getting out of here and getting home?”

Loki let out a snort, finally deigning to look his way. “There’s no leaving. There’s no going back. If we could, don’t you think we would have already?”

“Well, how now, brown cow, I would like to think that now that I’m here, we could get going. You could go back to annoying Thor, Blue Meanie gets her sister back, we can go back to Earth and I won’t even tell anyone that you’re there.”

Vision floated towards Tony, the tips of his toes dragging through the water. “I wish it was so simple, but those of us who have been here for five years have tried to leave, but reality is not so simple in this place. We can see life outside. We have been able to see what has been happening. We have watched your progress.”

Tony crossed his arms. “Well, huh.” He glanced at Gamora; she hadn’t said anything yet. “Any insight?”

“No.” Her response brokered no further comments.

Alright, then. Good teamwork. Tony frowned, “So, were you guys, like, able to see everything that was happening?”

Natasha shrugged. “Time moves oddly in here, but yeah, we saw a lot of what has been happening.”

“...Were you guys perving on anyone?”

Loki snorted. “You think we would want to?”

“Yes.”

Natasha slid between them. “We honestly didn’t see that much outside of the important pieces as the stones were assembled. Mostly.” She glanced over at Loki, who shuddered, and turned back to staring out and away. It looked like there was a story there, one that Tony would wrangle out of them once they weren’t trying to escape the land of orange.

They stood in silence, with the other four clearly used to it, each seeming to have their own place here, where they would look out into infinity. Seemed boring, in Tony’s humble opinion.

Tony lapsed into silence. There was no technology here unless he busted open Vision, which he would not do, so there was no way for him to help. Loki had magic, but if he hadn’t left yet, the greasy git, Tony doubted it was possible for them.

He didn’t know how long they stood there in silence; it could have been five minutes or five years. It was as if his mind had gone blank, which was something it had never done before when the sky suddenly shifted from orange to turquoise.

“Don’t look so down, kiddos!” An old man appeared in a flash of white and clapped his hands, startling Tony out of his moment of insanity. “Welcome to the Soul Stone!”

Gamora, Loki, and Natasha immediately shifted positions, moving around, wary but ready to attack him.

Vision floated forward to stand next to Tony, who was touched that Vision decided to be his bodyguard. At least, that’s what Tony assumed. Maybe Vision would pick him up and dunk him on the old man. They were dead, after all.

“And you are?” Tony asked.

“Oh, I have a lot of names, some people call me the Creator, but I don’t like to think that I’m God. Pfft.” He threw his arms out. “I have an opportunity for you folks!”

Gamora tilted her head; she looked interested but wary, given the narrowing of her eyes. It wasn’t every day you were offered something in the afterlife. Or whatever this was. “Opportunity?”

“What kind?” Loki picked at his fingernails with a dagger that he most definitely did not have before, attempting to look as threatening as possible. Tony wondered if Loki would ever go to seed as Thor had, but Loki didn’t seem the type to get PTSD, more like he was the cause of it. Especially since he could just pull a dagger from thin air; like, how did he manage to do that? Tony wanted infinite daggers.

The man smiled widely, making the laugh lines around his mouth deepen. “You five are pretty special, some of my favourites, and you each did something important in saving the universe.”

Gamora's face twisted between a grimace of rage and pain. “My father throwing me off a cliff did not help save the universe!” she hissed.

The man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Things will come to pass, good things and bad things, but in order to thwart him, he needed to do the Snap.” The old man snapped his fingers, and the five of them held back a flinch. “You all went through so much, to have death as your reward, and that’s not fair is it?”

None of them said anything. Each and every death here hadn’t been fair in the least, but they weren’t going to admit it, not to someone who very well might be a god of some sort. A god who looked like somebody’s lost grandfather.

“Well, kiddos, I want to give you an option.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Which is?”

“There’s a world out there just like your own, except all of you are dead.”

Loki scoffed and made a clawing motion with two of his fingers. “I believe that is called 'our world.'”

Tony nearly fell over. Loki had done _air quotes._ How did he even know what those were?!

The man chuckled, and the orange light glinted on his aviators. “Oh, how right you are, Loki, but this one is a bit different.” He paused, taking them all in with a smile like they were his pride and joy. “In this one, Tony Stark died when a missile hit his car in Afghanistan, and because of this, the Vision was never created, Natasha died from being burned from the inside, and Loki got the worst clobberin’ of his life.”

Gamora circled the man, her eyes travelling him up and down, from his loafers to his red sweater vest. “And I?”

“Died saving Nebula from Ego.”

Gamora had come to a full circle and stopped behind Tony. “Ah.”

The old man smiled sadly. “That she did, and now Nebula’s in a spiral of misery, on the run from Thanos and afraid of the Guardians. Things are different, yet the same in this world. They will need help to stop Thanos there, as well. But they won’t have you.”

Tony raised his index finger. “Well, hold on there, pops, why would we want to go there? We’re all dead. We’ve fought our good fight. Why do we have to go and clean up their—” Tony stopped himself, and lowered his hand with a sigh. Arguing against helping people was not something he did.

“Tony, my boy, I know you inside and out. Nothing will stop you from helping people; you’re a good man, and even death can’t keep you from saving the universe. I like to think the same of all of you.” The man looked at Loki with a soft smile. “Even our reluctant hero. There’s nothing wrong with laying back, and watching a good play, and draining the wine cellars of Asgard dry, but action calls to you too.”

The four of them shared a look between them, which Loki ignored as he stared the man down. The old man just smiled benignly back at Loki like he was his mischievous son. Hell, for all Tony knew, that’s what Daddy Odin looked like.

“There are only two options I can offer you kiddos: you get to save another world—hopefully without dying this time—or you can move on to whatever afterlife exists out there for you.”

Tony briefly wondered what kind of afterlife existed for gods, aliens, assassins, robots and former arms dealers. Outside of Vision, everyone here had blood on their hands, and who knew if the good they had done outweighed their past crimes?

Gamora walked forward without looking at any of them. “I will go. I cannot let Thanos win in any world. He must be stopped.”

“She’s right.” Vision stood next to Gamora. “I was unable to help our world, not even with my death. I want a second chance to stop him.” Tony figured he would also want to live more than three years.

Tony looked at Natasha, she was smiling, and it wasn’t one of those half smiles she did, the ones that said, “I know more than you do, and you’re an idiot for thinking you know more than me.” No, this was genuine; it was genuine and excited. She walked into the line with the others, as silent as the grave.

Natasha was made for second chances. Although by Tony’s count, this was her fourth or fifth.

Tony bit his lip. Did he want to go? Wasn’t he tired of all the fighting? Of the pain he had felt, the near death—no not near death, the experience of dying? He began to chew on it. There was the chance, though, that Pepper was there. That he could see her again. It wouldn’t be his Pepper, but it would be someone who knew him. Who understood him. Who could put up with him at the very least. That he could go into a new world and help the people there, help the Pepper and Rhodey there not die in the Snap, not die from Thanos. The old man said he couldn’t go back to their original lives since they were dead and all, but he could still make a difference somewhere, still help. He could do even better than he had in his world, keep more alive. They knew more than they had before, meaning they had the upper hand on Thanos. They could win without the loss of life. Without loss of their lives.

The man was right—he couldn’t stop. Tony didn’t have it in him to not help people who needed protection. To go to a world that didn’t have a redeemed Tony Stark, one without Iron Man.

He walked up to Natasha and sighed. “I’ll go.”

Five pairs of eyes turned to Loki, who rolled his own. “Fine.”

The old man laughed and smiled. “’Nuff said!”

Tony had a brief second of thought where he wondered where they would be going. Maybe they would be in space, on a different planet, which would be cool, since it’d be easier to fit in at least. But mainly, he wondered if they would have clothes on.

The man clapped his hands and the world went white.

  
  



	2. Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a rough landing and an even rougher awakening. The world is Earth, but utterly alien. Wish him luck.

Tony landed on the ground, falling face first into a field of overgrown grass. Instead of getting up, he laid there for a moment. Limbs askew, nose straight into the dirt, Tony could feel his joints grind together and throb without even moving. The ache in his sternum was back too, and really, he deserved a break.

Would it have been so hard to make his pain go away? Tony's death had been undone, why couldn't his arthritis have been poofed away by whatever magic mumbo jumbo the old man had been using? Tony was still suffering, maybe he wasn’t so benevolent.

The constant ache in his left arm was present as well. Great. Absolutely fabulous.

Tony didn't lift his head, but he began to shuffle his knees forward until he was in the child's pose from his and Pepper's yoga lessons. Alright, now for the hard part. He lifted his torso up without engaging his arms. The less pressure he put on lefty the better, and he didn't even want to think about righty.

He couldn't feel righty at all.

A breeze hit him, smelling of nature and water, along with the slightest bit of metal and fumes that made up industry. Straight ahead was a familiar lake, and to his left was what would have been the Avengers compound in a different life.

Wait.

He stood up, whipping around and rapidly taking in his surroundings. If there had been a crater in the ground and if he were 60 feet deeper... this was where he _died._

The world rose up to meet him, or rather, he fell down on his ass. Oh, that was not good for his back.

Jesus Christ, thi—

It had just be—

He had died.

He had died and gone to-to—someplace, a violently orange someplace, met up with some other dead people, made a deal, and now he was back.

Tony would have vomited if there was any food in his stomach. Instead, he dry heaved into the grass, feeling his chest trying to break itself apart with each heave, which didn’t help as his salivary glands tried to produce something to ease the passage of non-existent food.

His mind was both blank and running a mile a minute.

He was dead. He had died. He was back from the fucking dead! He had agreed to come back and help. How long had he been dead? It felt like thirty minutes at most. Thirty minutes where he had died and showed up here under that torii-like building.

His chest hurt. Pangs were violently shooting through his heart, very reminiscent of that time Pepper had removed the magnet from his chest cavity. Even if he wasn’t used to the ever-present pain in his left arm, he would be worried he was having a heart attack. At least there wasn’t any _new_ pain in that arm.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," he whispered in a chant, almost a prayer.

What the hell was his life? His death?

Pepper...

Morgan...

The visceral scream of a wounded animal tore through the air and was sucked into the void of the nature that surrounded it. Tony almost looked for the source, before he realized that it was coming from him. Oh.

His cry tapered off and down into sobbing. He covered his face as he sobbed at the loss of his family, of his friends, of his future with them.

They were gone.

He was gone.

Why had he agreed to come back? Why? Blood pounded in his ears, his heart raced, and sweat began to pour off his forehead. Oh, this he was used to. Good old panic attacks. He had not missed them.

He gripped the grass with one hand, tugging at it as he fought to control his breathing.

A click of a gun echoed behind him. "This is private property. I must ask you to leave!" Well, that was sobering.

Tony dropped his hands, ignoring the wound that had once been his right arm, vicious, angry, raw and fresh, and looked at the man who was pointing the gun at his head. He was tall and skinny and looked to be a hundred pounds soaking wet. His shirt was emblazoned with a Stark Industries logo.

Tony shakily rose to his feet. "It's pretty hard to be trespassing when I own the property you're standing on."

This place had only ever been a warehouse before he had converted it into the Avengers headquarters, a few guards that hung around to prevent thefts, at the most.

The guard squinted for a moment before dawning realization graced his face. "Oh my god, you're Tony Stark."

Tony straightened his back, which kinda hurt. "The one and only. Now that we've established that, call me a car and get Pepper on the line."

The guard gawked. "I—You've been missing for _six_ _years_."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Look, kid, you're missing the point. I've got places to be, people to see—" He stopped and looked around. "Hey, was there anyone else around?"

The guard shook his head slowly. "No, just you."

Tony huffed. Alright, where the hell were the others? Weren't they supposed to form a super team and stop Thanos? How were they going to do that now? Tony cursed and headed towards the golf cart the guard had driven over.

"You getting in or what?" He asked as he carefully maneuvered into the driver's seat.

The guard started and hopped into the passenger seat. "Do you want me to drive? You look like you need someone to drive you."

Tony pressed down on the gas and they sped away to the building at a whole fifteen miles per hour. "I don't know if I want you driving when you're clearly enamoured. Now, get on the horn and get Pepper on the line and maybe a doctor or two."

Steering was a bit tough with only his left hand in commission, but it was doable as long as they went in a straight line.

Tony tuned out the guard who was finally on the phone.

The first thing on his agenda was to get his arm dealt with, find out when he was, and find out what else was different in this world. Oh, and find the other four.

Vision and Natasha would probably be able to find him fairly quickly, but Gamora and Loki might not have the resources—or desire—to find him.

Loki had probably already ran off ages ago. Palling around in Asgard, and drinking the wine cellars dry.

He pulled into the security station and hopped out, vaguely hoping for some aspirin, at the very least, while the rest of his thoughts churned like they were in a butter making competition.

"—ark. Mister Stark," the guard was saying as he tapped his shoulder.

Tony spun around, his eyes wide. For a second, the guard had sounded just like Peter. "What?"

"I have a concierge doctor coming for you, and Miss Potts and Mister Stane are flying in from California."

Tony's heart climbed up into his throat, clearly trying to escape through his mouth and onto the ground.

Obadiah.

Urge to vomit: high.

Things to vomit: low.

"Oh."

##

He made his way into the small, dingy bathroom that was in the warehouse, it was cramped, violently orange, for some reason, and smelled like it hadn’t been washed in over a decade. It was that distinctly unwashed man smell that he had only experienced once or twice in his life. It was a smell that stuck with a person.

The mirror was caked in grime, so Tony tore a piece of his ragged shirt off and wiped at it. God, why did his right arm have to hurt more than his left arm now? At this point, he could just have them always encased in nanotech if it relieved the pain.

Okay, this mirror was seriously filthy; it made it look like the right half of his face was a raw and open wound, and that simply could not be the case. He reached up and touched it gently with the tips of his fingers on his right hand. He couldn’t feel anything. There was no input from fingers, or his face; all he could feel was the slightest bit of pressure. Not good.

Jesus, was this the last sight Pepper had of him? Burned and dying? Tony stared at the cracks in the sink. She didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve to lose her partner, to watch him die. If they hadn’t done their little time heist, he would still be with Pepper and Morgan. They would still have their happy, idyllic life together. Morgan would still have her father, and his right half wouldn’t look like this cracked sink.

Tony wished he had been selfish. That he had taken that information and tossed it into the lake as he had suggested to Pepper. He wished that he was at the lake house with his daughter and wife. That he wasn’t away from them.

His knees sagged, and he sat down heavily on the toilet, tears brimming in his eyes.

The Avengers had won the war, but Tony had lost the battle. The tears spilled over.

Fuck.

“Mister Stark? The doctor is here,” came the voice of the guard on the other side of the door. “I also grabbed Bob’s spare uniform since you…look like you need it. No offence.”

Tony frowned to himself, because God, was he a mess. A hot one, but still a mess. Garnering pity from the first person he’s met.

“Th-thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.” He wanted to bite his tongue out for stuttering, but settled for wiping at his eyes, before opening the door. The uniform was hung on the handle. Khaki and khaki. Gross, but it would do.

Tony carefully peeled himself out of his clothes, wincing at the pieces of his shirt embedded in the wound that currently made up the entire right side of his body. Tony picked at the small bits, causing more damage as he pulled it out of his skin. The sight of it was disturbing, but he didn’t feel any pain as he did so, and he knew he needed to get it all out before infection set in.

Fuck.

Switching his pants was a bit easier, nothing embedded. No major wounds, except for a slice in his thigh and probably a lot of subdural hematomas. You know, the usual hero stuff. The stuff that no one talked about.

Alright, now he was willing to wear a stranger’s pants. They smelled clean, but the socks were definitely not. Time to be gross. Bare feet into shoes. No socks. Ugh. He would have to deal until he got back to civilization.

Tony slid the khaki dress shirt on, but left it undone, not knowing if he had the dexterity to button it up at this point, and was pretty certain the doctor would want him to take it off anyways. So, really, he was doing the good doctor a favor, and definitely not avoiding thinking about the extent of the damage done to his arm. No denial here, none at all.

Making his way out of the bathroom, and towards the break area, he spotted the guard speaking to the doctor, a young man with curly light brown hair and kind eyes. The important thing, though, was if he could be discrete. He had better be, since he was a doctor, but Tony knew medical professionals couldn’t help themselves sometimes, especially concerning people of Tony’s fame status, although he guessed he probably wasn’t as famous here, since, you know. He was dead.

They made their introductions. Doctor Larson met Tony Stark, and did his best not to gape at all the wounds and scars that covered Tony’s body, which Tony gave him a point for. Fifteen years of being Iron Man had taken its toll, and it was not a pretty sight.

Larson went over Tony’s arm and face. “Mister Stark, we need to get you to a hospital. You can’t feel anything, and by the looks of it your skin on your right arm will become necrotic in the next two days.”

Tony fought the urge to groan. That was definitely not good. “Two days?”

“Or less.”

Tony pursed his lips. “I’ll call you in a day. I need to do stuff before I get locked in a white room.”

The doctor did not looked convinced, but still said, “Please make sure you get treatment as soon as possible. You’re running the risk of losing your arm, or your life.”

Tony shrugged. Been there done that, and all he had gotten were these lousy mental hangups piled on top of the ones he already had. “Of course.”

##

Tony stood alone inside the penthouse of Stark Tower, which was a bit of a surprise, since he hadn’t been around to build it. He had drawn up the plans for it before Afghanistan, but they had been shelved for other, more important jobs at the time.

There were so many things to do now. Infinity stones to deal with, upcoming threats, getting his company back, finding the other four, maybe trying to look for a way back to Pepper and Morgan.

JARVIS had come online the moment Tony had stepped into the penthouse, and proceeded to grill him for information to confirm that he was, in fact, Tony Stark. It had gone on for almost an hour. The only problem was trying to remember his old passcodes from 2008, but he had seemingly passed JARVIS’s test.

Tony’s right arm was bandaged up, and tucked up against his chest in a sling. The right side of his face was also covered with gauze, making him look like he was a burn victim or something. Oh, wait. He was. Tony hadn’t been too worried; it wasn’t like the old man wouldn’t let him come back without the use of one of his arms, or for him to die the next day. Sure, he couldn’t feel or move his fingers, but it’d probably get better. Probably.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

Tony felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, now that he wasn’t holding them back. He had missed his AI friend. FRIDAY was great, but nothing quite matched up to JARVIS and all the memories. He also didn't know what to say, settling for a weak, "It's good to hear your voice again."

"I feel much the same, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Tony licked his lips nervously. "I need to know what has happened since I've been gone."

"That is quite a bit to go through, sir."

"And completely unnecessary," a feminine voice echoed through the room, the click of heels preceding it as its speaker entered. "The more pertinent goal is for us to develop a story as to where you have been for the last six years."

Tony stared, trying to determine how he knew this woman. She was tall, lithe, pale with black hair that poured over her shoulders and a very condescending gaze. The pencil skirt and tight blouse sent his brain elsewhere, but his suspicion, thankfully, overruled it. He leaned forward and squinted. Hard. Thankfully, he wasn’t touted as a genius for nothing. " _Loki?"_

"Clearly," came the pithy response. "What did you plan to do?” An eyebrow came up. “Tell your Miss Potts about what has happened and hope she will believe you?"

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock; he didn’t expect to be right that it was Loki, but he had been, and now he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes, it was tough being as smart as he was. "Were the others with you?" he eventually croaked out.

"No, I appeared here a few hours ago." Loki smiled sharply and cocked his—her head to the side, making a loud cracking sound, her hair shifting, revealing her neck and the darkest purple bruise he’d ever seen that encircled it like a morbid collar.

Tony’s lips parted and his breath caught in his throat, remembering that Thor had mentioned, after _many_ drinks, that Thanos broke Loki's neck. He wondered if it still hurt.

Probably, considering that bruising.

Then again Loki was a god and could probably heal from chronic pain. It would get better in time, unlike his damn arthritis.

"Sir? Who are you talking to?" JARVIS asked.

Tony looked at Loki. "Magic?"

"As if there were another way." Yep, Loki incarnate. Cocky, arrogant, and bratty no matter what form. Though, maybe a bit calmer compared to when they had first met in New York all those years ago. He would still keep an eye out for any desires to defenestrate him again, though. That definitely wasn’t an experience he wanted to relive.  

"Sir?" JARVIS' voice sounded a bit more panicked. Well, as panicked as an AI could sound. "If Loki is here, I will need to inform the authorities."

"No! No, don't do that. Classify Loki as a friendly," Tony said quickly. He pointed at Loki. "Drop the illusion, or whatever it is you’re using, and let JARVIS mark you as a friend."

Loki sighed, waving a hand, and caused a small shimmer to appear, which Tony assumed allowed JARVIS' sensors pick Loki up. Or dispelled whatever she had been using to hide from the sensors.

One thought out of the millions running through his mind pushed its way to the forefront. "Wait, JARVIS, you know Loki?"

"Not personally, but I am familiar with his exploits." A hologram appeared in the middle of the room. On the ground was Loki as he had appeared during the New York incident, but instead of limp and alive, his body was twisted, broken and dead. "Dr. Banner's alter ego killed him here two years ago."

Loki's brow was furrowed and her lips twitched into a frown. "Delightful." She had made her way over to the tall windows that made up the wall, looking out at the ongoing traffic with a faint look of distaste on her face, the glass reflection the only indicator of her expression.

"I guess I'm not the only one who showed up where they died."

Loki turned around and sneered at him. " _I_ didn't die there. This world's Loki died there. Killed by a mindless beast."

Tony raised his bandaged arm in some sort of placating gesture whose meaning was mostly lost by the fact that his arm was currently a lump of bandages. "Calm down, I'll have you know Bruce and the Hulk have hashed things out."

Loki's eyes narrowed and her mouth opened marginally. Tony knew the look of a person who was shocked and offended by stupidity, seeing as he had experienced them during the years he was actively dating before Pepper. Not that she didn’t give him those looks; they just didn’t hurt as much from her. Telling Loki to calm down probably didn't help. "Do I look like I care about Banner?"

"Valid point." Tony walked to the bar and began to look through the drinks that were available. Good stuff, stuff that Obadiah was fond of. Stuff that Tony hadn't allowed in his presence since Obadiah had died.

Probably tasted like betrayal.

He poured himself two fingers worth of scotch and another one for Loki. "I think it’s about time for that drink now. So, you were saying that we need to come up with a story."

Loki’s lips twitched minutely like they were almost going to smile for a moment before their owner decided that no, Tony was not allowed to be amusing. "Were you going to tell the truth? Feign amnesia?"

Tony drained the glass. Yep, 100% betrayal. "I was, in fact, thinking amnesia. Thought that might be fun. Spice things up a little."

Loki rolled her eyes. "Fun or not, that raises even more questions. They will likely believe that you've been indoctrinated by the terrorists that captured you."

Tony sat down heavily at the bar. "I didn't expect you to know so much. Been reading up on me, Prongs?"

Loki made her way across the room and sat at the bar with Tony, taking the drink and chuckling when she did so. "Barton had more than enough information on you."

"Creepy. What do you have in mind, then, oh wise one?"

"Alien abduction. You've been travelling through space for the last six years. It'll explain why you've fallen off the face of the earth, and your advanced knowledge."

Tony blinked and licked his lips. Loki wasn't wrong. Loki was actually, very right, not that he wanted to admit it, but did that mean he had to develop a story of his time in space? "Can I be a space pirate?"

Loki leaned forward, a bright smile on her face. “Why, of course you can be a space pirate! You can be anything you like if you put your mind to it.” The smile dropped from her face immediately after saying that, and Tony felt like he had been blindsided by its abrupt appearance and disappearance.

Brushing past his slight disconcertion at witnessing that rapid-fire change of emotion, Tony laughed. “Now, how did you manage to sound just like my third nanny? The condescending tone was spot on.”

“I believe it is more important that we develop the story with Gamora. Have you located her?”

Ah. Oh. Oops. Tony felt like hitting himself. It had slipped his mind, what with finding Loki in the tower. “JARVIS, can you see if there have been any reports about a green woman with cybernetic augmentations, black and red hair, and a gaze that could murder you? She's the most important, but also do a search for SHIELD agent Natasha Romanov, also known as the Black Widow."

"Of course, sir."

Loki leaned back against the bar and swirled her drink. "What of the robot?"

Tony waved a hand. "Vision will be fine."

##

Vision lightly kicked a piece of rubble across the ground and watched it float away through the lowered gravity of Titan.

"Well, this could be a problem."

##

"Look, Lokilocks—ha, say that ten times fast—it would be nice to develop a cover story with Jolly Green's second cousin, three times removed, but we don't know where she is. Pepper and Stane are on their way here, and I don’t even know where to begin the story," Tony said, in the middle of the room pacing. "Are aliens really our best bet?"

Loki leaned forward, her lips pursed and a glib look on her face. "Alright, what is the kind of cover story you would want to use? Let's hear your excuse for vanishing for six years and then appearing in upstate New York all of a sudden, and without making it seem as if you have been brainwashed by whomever your captors might have been."

Tony licked his lips, his tongue staying a big longer on the right side, feeling the texture of the burns there. “I got nothing.” He could also feel nothing from the burns.

"Just as I expected. No one is as good a liar as I am. Space for six years. Not so hard."

"Except, I have no details. What if Gamora says one thing and I say a different thing?”

"I could smash your face into the wall and give you a concussion,” Loki offered, her expression serious and not the tiniest bit joking. “You were trapped on the planet Sakaar, and eventually escaped through the Devil's Anus with a group of people you were held with that includes myself, Gamora, and the robot. We will need to know what happened to Romanov here before we develop her side of the story. Really, Stark, we can go over this later."

Tony glared at Loki, who was currently working her way through the bar. "The Devil’s _what_?"

"I’m sure your ears are in perfect working condition. If you don't want to be caught in a lie, refrain from sharing details that can get you caught in a lie." She popped open Obadiah’s cherished bottle of 1928 Krug and didn’t bother with a glass.

"But what about when you're asked for those details? Also, save me some, that bottle is $21,000 and I never got to try it in our reality.”

"A personal favourite of mine is to fall to the ground in a faint. Stops the conversation and you still get to be the center of attention." Loki slid the empty bottle across the bar to him. “You could have the dregs, if you wish.”

Tony took the bottle and tipped it over his mouth, getting only a few drops of this now-extinct breed of wine. Dropping it to the counter, it rolled to the side and then stopped, partially over the edge. "Not nice, horns. Also, that's really bad advice."

"Tell that to my father. Could fall into a faint at the drop of a hat." Ouch, that had almost sounded like it had some bad memories behind it. Bad enough that either Loki was over exaggerating how accomplished her skills in deception were, or Tony was just very perceptive.

The truth was probably closer to the both of them not quite over the shock of what had recently happened to them, with Loki slipping and Tony focusing on anything other than himself. Alright, that was enough self-reflection for the day. Next person’s turn. "Being a drama queen runs in the family?"

Loki levelled Tony with a Look(TM). "You have met my brother, you know my brother, and while he does not faint to get out of arguments, he is the most drama-obsessed clown we both know.” She grimaced, as if thinking about moments when Thor had been particularly theatrical. “Look, I may be fonder of my brother than of Odin, but he is _not_ exempt from the dramatics in our family. The fact that he decided to lodge that damn axe in Thanos' chest instead of his head was purely to get dramatic vengeance," she sniffed haughty. “And look where that got him.” She gestured with her hand, encompassing all of Tony and the tower in her sweep. Rude.

Tony poured Loki another two fingers worth of Scotch. It sounded like she needed it. "Your parents didn't let you vent to them, did they? Also, use a damn glass."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Loki asked with narrowed eyes, but took the glass anyways. The green of those eyes were starting to get a bit too intense, and so he looked away.

“Pepper and I invested in a lot of baby books before Morgan was born,” Tony’s voice began to speed up, giving himself less time to think about what came out of his mouth if he just ploughed through, “And one of the important things they said to do is to allow your child to talk and trust you. Otherwise, they might close themselves off from you and become resentful, and act out when they want attention.” He paused. Maybe he would be thrown out the window again for saying the next thing, but never let it be said that Tony had a brain-to-mouth filter. “It just seems like Daddy Odin was not the listening type.”

Loki, surprisingly, glanced away, her silence speaking volumes about how on the nose Tony was.

"Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. She wasn’t the only one with daddy issues. “So, Sakaar, that was the planet you and Thor were on? And Hulk and Thor were, like, gladiators?"

Loki paused, seemingly appreciating the shift in topic. "Yes. It is very much a survival of the fittest, and given your intellect, we can build around..." Tony listened as Loki developed the base story that they would give Pepper and Stane, adding little details here and there that sounded like they were from experience.

"What about you? How do I explain you? I really doubt they expected me to show up with a new assistant immediately after getting back to Earth."

Loki waved a dismissive hand. "They will have to. We shall just say that you developed a team to escape from Sakaar and that we were split up when we arrived on Earth. It should be able to explain everyone, minus the Widow."

JARVIS’s cool voice rang out, startling Tony. It was still surreal that he was able to hear that voice again. Loki, that asshole, didn’t react, except to look amused. “Mister Stark, I believe I have located your ‘green’ woman."

Tony waved a hand, pulling up the interface. Oh god, it was so clunky compared to what he had been working with for the last decade, but he still seamlessly pulled up a long distance image of Gamora on the screen.

She was surrounded by sand and bodies. Lots of bodies.

"Images taken from Bagram air base aerial reconnaissance drones. There is reporting of a cell of the Ten Rings terrorist group being wiped out by a _green_ woman. This image was taken roughly twenty minutes ago. Using Colonel Rhodes login, I can see that Captain Rogers and Agent Barton have been dispatched to assess the situation."

Tony and Loki both cursed. Or, at least, that’s what Tony assumed came out of Loki’s mouth, because it sure wasn’t any language he had ever heard of.

"There has been no sign of Natasha Romanov, but I do not have access to SHIELD files. Just Colonel Rhodes’ cellphone."

Tony got up and began to pace. "How long until Pepper and Stane arrive?"

"They will be landing in thirty minutes, and have a helicopter waiting to bring them here. I estimate you have forty-five minutes."

“JARVIS, get Rhodey on the phone.”

##

Loki stood up and wandered around the room as Stark spoke to this so-called Rhodey. The man on the other end was more than pleased to hear that Stark was alive, but also overly suspicious of this timely news. Especially since Stark was asking his friend to ensure that Gamora wasn't injured or attacked. That she was, in fact, "a friendly," while also being insanely dangerous. That maybe she should be approached as if she was a super soldier who was paranoid about being split up from her friends, one of whom being Stark.

If only Loki had the power of long-range teleportation or a weapon she could swing with reckless abandon and get dragged behind to retrieve Gamora, but no, Loki was given the gift of mental hangups and severe distrust.

Thank you, All-father.

The man on the other end of the line told Stark that Rogers and Barton would be advised to approach Gamora with caution and diplomacy instead of arrows and shields.

Stupid, bouncing shield. That idiotic slab of metal _hurt._

If Barton and Rogers did end up dead by Gamora's hand, Loki wouldn't weep. The five of them could go somewhere else and work on their plan. From what she had picked up while in the soul stone, only two of them were currently on earth, with the other four in space.

Loki had no intentions to go near Vormir. She had no desire to throw anyone off that damn mountain, or be thrown off.

She made her way back behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of some pine and lemon flavoured drink, proceeding to drain a glass worth of it. Even if Odin had finally acknowledged her as his child, it still didn't undo the harm that Odin had inflicted over the centuries.

The fact that Odin was still alive here—oh! Oh, yes, how could she have forgotten? Odin _was_ still alive. Odin was alive, and Hela was imprisoned, and Loki knew about that little secret. How she loved holding all the cards.

Another glass of the lemon-pine was drunk and a little frown came across her face. Heimdall was still around, as well. She would have to be careful, until it was time to reveal herself.

Loki didn’t know why she had been so reluctant to accept the offer when it had been made in the soul stone. It seemed as though her life had been a series of one bad decision after another, so why should death be any different? And now she was alive again, in a world where her counterpart had invaded and died. She couldn’t be herself here, not while surrounded by enemies from all sides. Stark likely distrusted her because of that failed invasion, along with hearing about her from Thor. It was unlikely that he had had anything good to say about her. While there hadn’t been any issues while inside the soul stone, the Widow was likely still angry about Loki’s tampering with Barton. You could be wronged by someone and forgive them, but when someone you love got hurt, that was a rage that could remain burning for centuries. She, of course, knew from personal experience.

For example, when Amora toyed with Thor’s dumb heart and he got his dumb heart broken by her.

Slag.

She didn’t know if the android would trust her, but didn’t bother holding out hope. Gamora was likely the most relatable, though, tangentially: bad father figure, blue sibling trying to murder her. She was like Thor. Not that Loki was going to treat her like Thor. It just seemed like they might have had shared interests.

She missed Thor. Death really put things into perspective.

Fingers snapped in front of her face.

Stark.

He must have finished his call.

"Hey, Lokes, back to the real world?"

"Did I ever leave it?"

Stark stared at the drink in her hand. "I would have to say so, since you're drinking Pine-Sol."

Loki swirled it around before downing the entire glass. "Is it considered a bad drink on Midgard?"

Stark stared at her, his brown eyes torn between shock, fear, and mirth. "Yes. Undoubtedly. The worst drink outside of bleach and neurotoxin." Stark pushed the bottle across the counter. "See the bit on the label where it says ‘poison’ and ‘household cleaning product?’"

Loki read it over. Well. She wouldn't die from it, but she would lose face if she reacted poorly. "More for me then." Loki grabbed the bottle and chugged it, as if it were that bottle of wine.

Stark slapped his hands to his face and dragged them down, stretching his skin. "Oh my god."

She dropped the plastic bottle on the counter and licked her lips. "Yes?"

Stark hid behind his hands and screamed into them for a long ten seconds before dropping them down. His expression was filled with poorly hidden stress. "If you need the bathroom, it's around that corner. If you need to vomit and can't make it, there's a bucket under the counter...A bottle of Pine-Sol," he shook his head, "What the hell."

Loki’s lips twitched at the hilarity of Stark’s over-the-top reaction and opened a small fridge under the counter that was empty. “Do you have any food here?"

Stark shrugged. "Don't know. It's not like I’ve ever lived here. Stane must use it when he's in New York, but who knows when the last time that was. JARVIS, is there food?"

"There is not. Would you like me to order some?"

"Yes, Thai. I want Thai food. Order some Thai food."

"Of course, sir."

Stark wandered out of the penthouse and onto the balcony outside, which allowed Loki to sneak to the bathroom and vomit out the cleaning fluid that she had drunk. No, it wouldn't poison her, but it was already slightly upsetting her stomach. Most likely simply due to the amount she had consumed during that the last bit, not the contents of it.

After emptying her stomach, she made her way to where Stark stood, watching the sky for the helicopter that carried a version of his wife. Loki let out a puff of air, drawing attention to herself.

Stark stared down at the busy street below them. "So, we're going to stop Thanos."

Loki's shoulders tensed, ever so slightly. "We have other things to worry about first before we get to that."

“Well, yes. I guess so. Things like getting the stones and resources, and you avoiding angry family members, and finding the others and stuff,and not getting killed by Thanos, again.” Stark hunched forward, looking away from Loki. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for? You didn't kill me. Thanos killed me.” Loki’s hand drifted up to her neck, almost absentmindedly, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. “Hel, he killed you too."

Stark tapped his fingers against the balcony in a staccato. "Never mind. We'll talk about it when we have the band together. We have time."

Time reminded Loki of the wizard. She scrunched her nose. Of course, falling for ages with no end in sight was delightful and had been exactly how she wanted to spend her morning. Time stone wielding ass.

The two of them stood in silence, oddly reminiscent of their time spent in the soul stone. Amiable, if amiable meant that you didn't talk to one another, and didn't get into fights. A nice peaceful coexistence, and now it was time to snap back to reality. Dreadful.

Stark was like a Midgardian hound, overly-excited; she was almost able to see the thoughts going a mile a minute, and he was always on guard. He was a smart one, though. Remotely tolerable with his connections and wealth. When she had arrived, Loki knew it would be for the best if she befriended him, made herself a part of his life.

There were no friends for her here. There were no friends for her back before she had died. All Loki had back then was Thor. Heimdall would never trust her, with good reason. The rest of Asgard was, obviously, not very receptive towards her. The time with the Grandmaster had been enjoyable, if rather stressful. Valkyrie had been…tolerable, despite her attitude. Fascinating, really, considering her past. The rest of the ragtag team Thor had thrown together on Sakar had been nice, albeit, not the sharpest swords in the armoury.

Thus, it was her current goal to befriend Stark, find the other members of their group, hide from her father, and maybe try to save more lives.

Ugh, hero things. The last time she had done something remotely heroic, she had ended up with a broken neck.

The cacophony of New York was momentarily drowned out by the sound of an approaching helicopter with the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on the side. Loki could see the face of Virginia Potts and the man she was forced to assume was Stane. The man who made Stark into Iron Man.

In an act of corruption and greed, Stane had given the universe Iron Man. Loki supposed it had been for the best, since half the life in the universe had relied on Iron Man existing. She was almost excited to meet him, to meet the man who had given rise to the future of the world.

As the helicopter landed, Loki hoped that Stark would be able to keep the story straight; it was fairly simplistic, but she was more than ready to jump in and make some bullshit up on his behalf, like she had in the past for Thor and his friends.

The door of the helicopter opened and two bodyguards stepped out, guns visible at their hips. As Stane stepped out, Loki was able to appreciate the aura the man projected: power, competence, and despite what Loki knowing what she knew, happiness at seeing Stark alive.

The blades of the helicopter stilled, and Stane stood there with his hands, formed into fists, on his hips. A sly grin on his face. “Tony, you slick son of a bitch. Where the hell have you been?” He didn’t acknowledges the bandages that protected Stark’s wounds.

Stark shrugged, a half smile on his face, but his eyes were dull. He clearly did not want to be doing this. “Space, mainly.” Stark gestured with his chin towards the tower. “Let’s head in before the reporters descend on us.”

Stark looked at Loki, a questioning look in his eyes. Neither the guards nor Stane had even noticed her, their gaze having slid off of her and onto Stark. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, a question about to leave his mouth, when she put a finger to her lips. He closed his mouth.

“Tony!” Pott’s had extracted herself from the helicopter and approached him as fast as she could, walking right past Loki. Pott’s stride wavered as she approached Stark, taking in his bandaged state. Her lips parted, about to ask some question when Stark pulled her into a tight hug. Loki watched Stark’s face as he held her, his eyes closed, stress and pain melting off of him. Pure and utter relief.

No, Loki was not feeling jealous. Most definitely not. Loki didn’t want to have an amicable reuniting with anyone. Perish the thought.

Potts began to look rather stiff; clearly her relationship with Stark when he had died had not been one of long hugs, and it had since grown awkward. “Tony?”

Stark released her and shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve just. Missed being home. Missed you—the both of you! A lot.” Stark released a small—rather nervous sounding, in her opinion—laugh, turning around and walking into the building, the pair following him, like ducklings. “Anyways, yes, it’s good to see you both again.”

Loki shifted and stood against the wall, watching how everyone moved around the room. Stane looked at the state of the bar, shaking his head. Potts was watching Stark, but kept distance between them. The two bodyguards were within ten feet of Stane.

No one had noticed Loki, which was her design. A small spell that made it so people vaguely knew you were there but didn’t bother to pay attention to you. Odin and Frigga had not been fond of the spell, especially since Loki had learned it as a toddler.

Frigga had often talked of hearing phantom giggles.

“JARVIS,” Stane’s commanding voice echoed through the penthouse as the man poured three glasses of an alcohol that Loki hadn’t dipped into, “Can you confirm this is Tony?”

“Outside of doing a DNA sampling, he has answered all questions to my satisfaction. His retina, fingerprints, gait, and voice all match my samples from 2008 and before.” JARVIS answered succinctly, and to Loki’s untrained ear, also rather curtly.

Loki suspected the AI didn’t like Stane.

Stane smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry, Tony, I had to ask.”

Stark waved his left hand dismissively. “No worries. I understand. It’s not every day a missing person falls out of the sky.” He sat down, carefully moving his arm close to his chest to not jostle it.

There was a pause. “...You said you’ve been in space. Is that true?” Stane sat next to Stark and passed him the glass.

Potts settled on a nearby chair, worry still evident in her eyes. “What happened? The last time anyone saw you before today was the presentation for the Jericho. James was the last person to see you.”

Stark nodded, taking a sip from the glass, his eyes watching Stane. Loki would need to give him some pointers on not being overly aggressive with people you hate. “After the Jericho presentation, we were headed back to Bagram Air Base,” he swirled the drink around, “One of the kids asked me for a picture with them. Next thing I know, there’s bullets and shrapnel tearing through the humvee and the soldiers. I got out of the car and ended up next to an explosive. It went boom, the world went black, and I woke up on a different planet.”

“...a different planet?” Potts repeated weakly, leaning backwards slightly.

“Yup. It’s never been fully clear to me what happened and how I ended up there. Some of the aliens I met said that there are abductions that happen, but it was more likely that I slipped between dimensions.” Stark took a sip of his drink. “Apparently, there’s dimensional rifts on most planets, some are less stable, and you can slip into the space between dimensions.”

Stane raised a brow. “If that was the case, wouldn’t people have found it by now?”

Stark rolled the glass back and forth between his palms. “The way it was explained to me, is that we regular old humans can’t open them, but if someone or something was coming through them somewhere on Earth, one in Afghanistan may have opened and pulled me in.”

“And how did you get back? We watched the footage from the warehouse. You just _appeared_. Did you get back that way too?” Stane asked.

Stark nodded. “Yeah, me and a few others escaped through a dimensional portal called the Devil’s Anus. Fun place. Smelled bad, but it got us out.”

Loki pinched the bridge of her nose. She would have to chide him for adding unneeded details to their cover story; they would only be more things for him to keep track of. God damn it, Thor must have told Stark about the portal and he had connected the dots. By the Norns, Thor. If anyone from Sakaar ever—oh, what did it matter, it wasn’t like there was going to be a jailbreak from Sakaar for a few more years…Or ever, if Hela was never released. Truth be told, it was a pretty amazing chain of events that had led to Thor and Loki ending up on Sakaar.

Stupid Odin. Instead of settling for fainting for his dramatics, he had opted to die. Why couldn't he have done that a few years earlier when Loki had actually wanted him dead? Unbearably rude of him, really.

"Us? The footage only showed you."

Stark looked at Loki, and noticed that the others didn't follow his gaze. "Me and a few others came through. Our calculations said that we would likely be split up when we landed. I have a beat on one of them. Hopefully, she won't get in too much trouble, but Lo..., uh, Lolo over here managed to find me already." He gestured towards where she stood and this time the others looked, and were able to pay attention to her.

Not that it mattered, since Loki was shooting him a glare that could roast the atmosphere off of Midgard faster than their unfortunate case of planetary heating.

 _Lolo_ , honestly!?

Stane leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, giving her an appraising and appreciative look. "She’s an alien? Looks human to me." She gave him a smile that she had used in Odin’s court. Polite, but ensuring that the recipient never forgot they were talking to someone higher up on the pecking order.

"That's not really much, though. Thor appears to be human," Pepper rebutted.

And just like that, Loki was forgotten because of Thor. Not that she was bitter about it this time. Mainly, because there was a spell in use this time.

_This time._

Stark nodded his head along, looking at Loki and then Pepper, his gaze avoiding Stane.

"Oh, Tony you are going to be in for a treat!" Stane slapped Stark’s back and laughed, only narrowly avoiding the bandages. "You won't believe some of the tech we've gotten ahold of since you've been gone. JARVIS will have to get you fully caught up, but there have been two alien invasions. Big kerfuffle that happened right here in New York. Architect of it used the top of Stark Tower to open a portal and get an army here."

Stark’s brow furrowed, and Loki mirrored it. Two alien invasions? What had diverged?

"And the other?" Stark asked.

"Oh, a little thing that happened in London,” Stane shrugged nonchalantly, “Dark elves invaded. We got the tech from that as well. The advances we've made since then will drive you wild."

Stark took a long drink from the glass and nodded. "That's neat,” he replied half-heartedly.

Stark's facade was quickly unravelling. Unease was threaded through his body. Stark was not meant for the long con; he was someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, and didn't have to hide who he was. Loki had seen a recording of the press conference where he had declared to the world that he was Iron Man. The man couldn’t hide who he was.

Loki pushed away from the wall, leaned forward until her face was a few inches from his and gently put a hand on his shoulder. In a voice that was sweeter than an illicit love child between aspartame and saccharin, she said, "Tony, you've been overexerting yourself. If you need to take a break, you can. I'm more than sure your friends will be willing to wait for answers."

The room was silent as Stark stared into Loki's eyes.

Odin's hairy taint, this must be as awkward to observe as it was to be a part of.

A ding from the elevator doors opening and the entire group looked over to see a delivery boy holding up a few bags, breaking the silence and awkwardness. "Delivery?" He stepped off the elevator and into the room, looking around with wonderment on his face.

The bodyguards didn't move except to put a hand on their weapons. They were about as useful as the Einherjar.

Loki sighed and went to the boy, taking the bags. "We already paid," she said, glancing down at the white boxes.

The boy nodded and held out the receipt in the vague direction of her arm, distractedly leaning to the side to look around Loki’s shoulder. "I thought you were dead, Mister Stark! Glad you're not!"

Loki turned to watch the colour drain out of Stark's face as he looked at the kid. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Midgardians.

The kid stood near the elevator, shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking at Loki with expectation in his eyes, clearly waiting for something.

Loki looked up at the ceiling. "JARVIS, is there some custom I am missing?"

"I believe the young sir is waiting for a tip."

Loki frowned; what an odd custom. "Never stab someone in the front when you can stab them in the back."

"Oh my god," was the distant groan from the couch. "A tip means money!" Stark got up and walked around to Loki and the kid. "Put the receipt on the counter. You got a pen?"

The delivery boy nodded and produced the pen, placing his copy of the receipt on the counter. His nose wrinkled and he sniffed the air. “Does anyone else smell Pine-Sol?”

"You," Stark pointed at Loki with his left hand, "Come here, see that second line? Write one zero zero zero, and then add that to the total at the bottom and just write my name for me. Also, you give bad life tips."

Loki ignored his admonishments and was tempted to add an extra zero on for spite as she forged his signature. She passed the receipt to the boy who was gawking at Stark.

"Mister Stark, that—that's a lot of money for a tip. I think you made—"

"No, I didn't, go save it for school or something. P—What's your name, kid?"

“Peter,” the kid said, his voice filled with awe at being spoken to.

"Go put that money away for school or something, Peter," Stark said and walked back to the couch, his eyes glancing towards the kid every now and then. "Does anyone know where the forks are? My hand is too encased for chopsticks." He lifted his arm up as demonstration.

Loki put a hand on the young man's shoulders and guided him into the elevator. “Someone really went ham with the Pine-Sol,” he muttered. Loki didn’t bother holding back her eye roll this time. She thought of Stark’s’ reaction to seeing him. He seemed to recognize the boy. Loki recognized him too, just a bit. Maybe someone she had seen from inside the soul stone. He looked a bit young to be working in this realm. Something about child labour laws. There were certainly a lot of rules here.

The elevator doors closed, and Loki returned to Stark, passing him a fork she had conjured from what was his perspective, thin air.

Stark blinked rapidly at the sight, and tentatively took the fork. "Oh, thank you, Lo— lo."

She leaned forward, her hair falling forward and hiding her face, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "I will fucking kill you for that and no one would be none the wiser."

Loki couldn't see his face, but his body grew stiff. "Sorry."

"You will be. Now, do you want to take a break away from Stane, or can you handle this?"

She felt, rather than saw, Stark open his mouth, his breath ghosting past her cheek. Loki put her hand on his chest. "Don't lie. We cannot fail this initial step."

Stark squinted at her, suspicion on his face. "For someone who got here the same time I did, you certainly have a lot of plans in place already."

"You're good with creating machines, and I am good with creating plans. We can go over this later, but in the meantime, pinch the bridge of your nose and maybe tilt over a tad."

"Fainting? Really?"

"It works."

Loki stepped away, smiling at Stane, and turned to Potts, giving Stark his chance to tilt over. "I hope you don't mind, but I believe I've borrowed one of your outfits."

Pepper blinked and looked Loki up and down. "Oh, I didn't realize. Feel free to wear the rest until you get your own clothes.” She smiled at Loki. “It's nice to meet you, Lolo."

Loki wouldn't say her face had a violent spasm at the horrible name, but Pepper Potts certainly recoiled like it had, the smile dropping from her face faster than Loki’s faith in her father. "Thank you," she said, slowly.

"Hey, Pepper, is that a...wedding ring?" Stark’s voice was weak, and he actually looked like he was about to tilt over, which was convenient.

Pepper lifted her hand and looked at it, almost as if she was surprised to see it there. "Oh, yes—well no. It's an engagement ring, the wedding is still a few months out."

Stark’s face was absolutely ashen and Loki knew that they wouldn't have to feint his fainting. Could he not hurry it up a bit? "Who's the lucky man?"

Pepper smiled, her face glowing with happiness, even if Stark’s lost the colour from it. "James and I got together a few years ago—Tony, are you okay?"

Stark was hunched forward, his expression was that of a man who just had his hopes and dreams crushed. Loki was more than familiar with that one. "Yeah, I'm fine, Pep. Just feeling a little light-headed. Rhodey is a good match for you."

Loki sighed and lifted him bodily from the couch, bridal style, ignoring Pott’s and Stane’s gaping expressions. "He's a poor liar. The trip has taken a lot out of us, but especially him. We will have to take a break." Why must she have to do everything here?

"This is just rude," Stark grumbled, but his body felt nearly boneless in her arms. And hot. Loki was fairly certain Midgardians weren't supposed to be this hot.

She went from door to door, opening one room after another, making no effort to prevent Stark’s head from banging against the wall each time she grabbed a handle. Finding a bedroom with a large bed, Loki set him down on the mattress, and pressed her the back of her hand against his head. "You are very hot."

"Thanks. I think you gave me a concussion."

"Sir, I believe Miss Lolo is referring to the fact that your temperature is 101.2 degrees." JARVIS chimed in, ignoring the second thing Stark had said.

Perhaps she should let him die. Lolo. _Lolo_ . She could imagine Romanov’s face at that. Stupid, little smirk on it, simply revelling in the torment, and then she’d walk up and say, “Oh, _Lolo_ could you tell me about your name?” and Loki would have to refrain from tearing Romanov’s face off and hanging it on her wall like a morbid hunting trophy. Not that she had a wall to hang hunting trophies up on, but it was the principle of the matter.

"Oh. That's not good," Stark said, his eyes unfocusing.

"I shall call for a doctor to come at once, sir."

"No, no. It's fine," Stark replied weakly. “Don’t call a doctor.”

Loki sighed and ran a diagnostic spell over Stark's body. Not good. "It is definitely not fine, but he is correct, do not summon a healer. I can handle this. Stark, your right arm has undergone nerve death, and become infected." She took his shirt off and unwrapped the bandage, noting the grey-black lines that travelled up his arm and into his chest. "You would run the risk of having your arm amputated for necrosis if I wasn't here." Pulling a vial of healing tincture from a pocket dimension, she popped the top of it off, poured some into the palm of her hands, and began to massage it into Stark’s arm.

Stark watched her with a bemused expression that was rather amusing. "If anyone had told me that eleven years down the line, Loki, as a woman, would be sitting in Avengers tower, rubbing magical lotion on me, I'd say they were delusional, and then check them into the nearest mental hospital."

Loki chuckled, her thumbs pressing into the lines. "I would be inclined to agree." The fact that he didn’t react to her ministrations was a worrying sign to how badly he had been damaged. She continued rubbing his flesh, moving to his chest, and then up his neck to his face. This would leave some nasty scars.

She could barely imagine the pain he experienced wielding the gauntlet, but he had done it, and effortlessly at that. Truly, Stark was one of a kind.

Not that Loki would admit that to anyone.

Stark groaned as her hands moved onto pieces of him that weren’t dead cells. "Are you trying to become friends in order to manipulate me in the future?"

Loki was taken aback by the boldness of his question, but then thought better of it. It was Stark, after all. She should have known to expect rashness and bluntness, and so despite her natural inclination to answer with a falsehood, Loki responded with the truth. "Yes." Had to keep him on his toes somehow.

“Hoping that seeing you as a very attractive woman will make me forget that you’re Loki?”

“Yes.” Maybe she pressed a bit harder than needed in that particular area.

"Is that why you're wearing Pepper's clothes? Banking on my relationship with my wife?"

"Clever." She eyed a patch of flesh that had cracked open, which was, to her surprise, revealing dark lines underneath. Midgardians weren’t supposed to have dark lines deep within their flesh, were they?

Stark’s brow furrowed. "Why?"

Loki prodded at the lines. They looked as though they had been there for a long time—possibly years. Well, if Stark hadn’t said anything about it, neither would she. "Because you are mortal, and as a mortal, you tend to think biologically." She jabbed at an area that hadn’t suffered nerve damage, earning a yelp and an indignant look.

"Hey, easy on the goods, discount unicorn. No, I mean, why do you think you have to manipulate me? We're all going to work together against Thanos. We want to live and win, too. You don't have to be paranoid about us." Stark’s good hand rested itself on top of Loki's, which was still rubbing the elixir into his skin. "We're in this together. You can be yourself."

Loki stared. "I see."

“We’re Team Soul Squad, after all.”

Moment ruined.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see what Betaing looks like:
> 
> I love u 3000, boss <3 i wuv you 4000 eri berry i love u 5000 boss  i wuv you 6000 eri berry
> 
> I LOVE U INFINITY BOSS I LOVE YOU ENDGAME ERI BERRY I LOVE U MORE THAN I LOVE LOKI AND TONY THATS IMPOSSIBLE CAUSE I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I LOVE the CONCEPT OF HAPPINESS AND TONY FALSE I LOVE U MORE THAN THE ENTIRE MULTIVERSE AND ALL THE TONYS IN THEM FAKE AND GAY I  LOVE YOU MORE THAN NEBULA LOVES GAMORA BOOM I LOVE U MORE THAN AN INFINITE AMOUNT OF NEBULAS LOVING INFINITE GAMORAS BAM I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THANOS LOVE DESTROYING HAPPINESS BOOM I LOVE U MORE THAN ANYTHING IN EXISTENCE LOVING ANYTHING ELSE BAM
> 
> But like legit my beta is a saint and i adore her and i encourage everyone to treat their betas like the gods they are.
> 
> I'm aiming or a new chapter every 10 days to 2 weeks. This is a bit irregular due to the fact that I am prepping for some work.
> 
>  
> 
> From the beta: 
> 
> THANK U SO MUCH for taking the time to read this and making all my hard work kicking all those commas into place worth it! I LOVE U ALL AND JOYEUSEFUL AND I WILL BE FOREVER IN UR DEBTS <3


	3. What are you wearing? Louboutins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just where have all the towels gone!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit love my beta saint eri. She does all the things to commas that i don't  
> like remove them or move them to where they belong

Gamora had never been to Terra before, but she knew deserts. She had suffered their silent desolation during her time as a daughter of Thanos, had wandered them in her quest for the soul stone, had crawled through the bones and dust of a fallen civilization to find the map that had lead to Vormir. 

And to her death.

Just one more sacrifice at the altar of her father's madness.

If only her rage had not taken a hold of her at Knowhere. If only Nebula hadn't been captured. If only she hadn't revealed the location of Vormir, then he wouldn't have had anyone to sacrifice. If he had killed her before getting to Vormir, she could have rested easily in death, but he had benefited from her death, his sick version of love managing to twist the stone from her murder.

At least Thor had killed her father, and the Iron Man had killed the other version of Thanos and all of his armies. Even if he had died doing so. Shaking her head, she pushed those morbid thoughts and regrets to the back of her mind. They wouldn’t help her here. Gamora was far too aware of the black hole that was a person’s regret. 

Speaking of the Iron Man, how was she supposed to find one Terran on this entire planet? And why did she appear in a group of extremely hostile Terrans that tried and failed to kill her? They had barely registered as a threat to her. Some improvised weaponry and she had been able to eradicate the entire encampment. It hadn’t been doing any favors for her opinion of Terra so far. 

And now for the last few hours, Gamora had been walking through this darkened and rapidly cooling desert, a blade on her hip and a Terran gun across her back.

Did the sun rise on this side of the planet? She could ignore the cold to her flesh, but the metal of her augmentations ached down into her core. Curse Thanos and everything he had done to her and Nebula. Feeling an inexorable anger, she abruptly halted and released a hellish cry, kicking a rock and sending it flying into the distance. That was a lie; she knew exactly why her throat felt like it was closing up on her. Gamora brought a hand to her head, prodding it lightly. She sighed deeply. To make matters worse, her head was throbbing angrily after releasing that cry. 

Gamora was more than prepared to lament the destroyed innocence of herself and Nebula's childhoods and their worlds, but she was distracted by the kicked rock, which, instead of making a dull sound as it landed, made a sharp ringing sound, as if it had hit something metal.

She fell into a defensive crouch, her eyes refocusing into the distance as she drew her blade, before resheathing it as soon as she saw who it was. A man Gamora had seen in the soul stone. Righteous and driven by his desire to protect his friends. She had also seen Stark yell at him. A lot.

Further back was another one she had seen. Hawk Guy. What an odd name for a Terran.

Gamora continued until there was thirty feet between her and the two men.

The one with the shield—Steve Rogers, that was it—raised his hand in greeting.

"Miss, I nee—"

"Where is Tony Stark?" she said, cutting him off and getting straight to the point. 

Rogers looked back to Hawk Guy for a moment before returning his gaze to her. "Tony Stark died about five years ago. In this region. If you come with us, we can look into this together."

"Stark is not dead — you will take me to him," Gamora demanded as she approached them. “He is likely in one of your major cities.”

Hawk Guy shook his head minutely. “We can look into it. Come to our jet.”

Both men grew still, and Gamora could hear them receiving orders through their earpieces. Someone was informing them that she was friendly, and needed to be brought to New York City.

Stupid names for stupid places.

"Your said your name was Gamora?" Rogers asked, giving her an appraising look.

She smiled thinly at him. “Was that Stark?”

“A friend of his.”

The three of them walked back to their ship, and Gamora was guided to a seat. She leaned back, her head falling against the headrest. 

The two men had barely said anything to her or each other, merely sharing long, drawn-out glances during their little walk. Whether if it was because of her or if they were exchanging looks of longing that made their nethers engorge, as Drax would say, she didn’t know. Gamora wasn’t exactly what you’d call an expert at social situations. Living with Thanos could do that to a person. 

Hawk Guy had moved up to the front of the ship with the pilot, while Rogers had remained in the back near her.

"So...where are you from?" He leaned forward, making eye contact with her. She could almost feel the righteousness that exuded from his pores. 

"Zehoberei."

"I'm afraid I’m not familiar with that. Is it in space?" Rogers vaguely reminded her of a small creature she had seen while with the Collector and the other Guardians. Eager to please and cheerful. Yellow-haired, as well. 

Gamora crossed her arms. Challenging him. "Everything is in space.” Peter would be amused by her bullheadedness. Peter would also have been insanely jealous of Rogers. He was no Thor, but still very pleasant to look at. She missed Peter. She quickly pushed those thoughts away. 

Rogers paused, and blinked at her. "That’s a valid point, but it doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Zehoberei is over 900 jumps away from this planet, which I assume is Terra.”

He nodded. “It is, if you mean Terra as in Earth.” Peering at her curiously, he added, ”How did you get here?" Roger’s tone was like that of a pleasant conversation, one where you were catching up with a friend, not an interrogation — which was what it actually was. 

"I fell out of the sky and into a cave.”

If Rogers didn’t believe her, he was doing a good job of hiding it. "You…fell out of the sky into a cave? And where were you before that?"

Gamora opened her mouth, ready to give some sort of answer, when Hawk Guy walked in and put a hand on Roger's shoulder, squeezing it sensually. "Cap, we've just been ordered to intercept a Russian fighter jet."

Rogers stood and walked off with Hawk Guy, leaving Gamora to her thoughts. Stark had already been in contact with his allies, that much was clear, but how much influence would he have over these operatives in this timeline, where he had died? Had he already found Vision, Nathasha, or Loki? Or had they been sent to different spots on this planet to find each other? Why did that old man have to make things difficult for them? 

Her head bounced against the rest as the pilot apparently used some sort of boost on the plane and she flinched a little. These Terran ships were loud. Almost too loud for her to hear what Hawk Guy and Rogers were discussing: Tony Stark found alive, Tony Stark ordering his friend to tell them to not use force against her, odd fluctuations off gamma radiation over the planet in Siberia, upper New York state, New York City, and Afghanistan.

That had to have been from their arrival, but there were only four.

Did someone fail to arrive? Did their sensors miss an area?

Gamora unhooked her straps and approached the cockpit. The monitors in front of the pilot lit up with dots and warnings. "We have it in sight. Reading as a MiG-29k," he stabbed at a keyboard, "Serial number is coming back as having been decommissioned and disassembled over 15 years ago." They had apparently caught up to the ship they were sent after. 

She watched the small ship in front of them for a moment, before looking at the terminal of this one. It was overly complicated with no artificial intelligence to help control the ship. It was also ridiculously small compared to any of the ships she had ever been on, and Gamora doubted that it would even be able to break out of the planet's atmosphere.

She couldn't decide if Peter would get giddy over it, or if he would declare it lame, outdated, and uncool.

Gamora hoped that the 2014 Gamora from her reality gave Peter a hard time. He was cute, but dumb, although not without other redeeming qualities. She stifled a small smile. 

Hawk Guy and Rogers hadn't noticed her presence yet. They would have been dead within the day in space. 

Rogers raised a brow at the archer. "Question is, was it sold, stolen, or used for illegal operations?"

"Given that it hasn't been updated or modified beyond a stealth drive, I'm guessing they used it for illegal ops."

Gamora rolled her eyes. "Or all three. Sold, used for criminal engagements, and then stolen," she chimed in, looking at the two men. "There are many ways that it could have happened. About nine."

Rogers looked at her with a small grin and a raised brow. "You're right, but I think it would be best if you sat back down with your seat belt."

Gamora raised a brow back. "I've been in ships longer than you've been alive. I am more than comfortable up here."

Hawk Guy chuckled and elbowed Rogers. "I don't know about that. He spent the last 70 years on a ship."

Natasha had told her about Rogers, and how he had been trapped in ice, but it was more fun to tease him, since she wanted to get off on a good foot with these heroes. "That explains the wrinkles."

Roger's lips parted in surprise and he was about to respond, when the pilot began to fire warning shots at the stolen ship. The three watched as it dodged the bullets with ease.

"Attention pilot of MiG-29k, you are violating Kazakhstan airspace. Continue to these coordinates and land or you will be shot down." The pilot tapped against the keyboard before flicking a switch.

They watched the ship they were chasing bank to the right. "I'm not getting a response but they're heading towards the coordinates. They might not have outgoing comms…This could be an escape attempt, since they didn’t activate stealth drives. They may have wanted to be found.”

Hawk Guy looked at Rogers. "Well, if that’s the case, they succeeded. They're probably low on fuel, if they’re flying out of Siberia.”

Rogers and Hawk Guy took their seats and strapped themselves in. Hawk Guy turned to her. "Unless you want to go flying, I suggest you sit down."

Gamora ignored the warning and remained standing with her arms braced against the frame of the ship. They were going lower, a long strip of barren land in front of them.

Suddenly, the ship in front of them banked up, hard. They watched as the cockpit window blew off, and the pilot was ejected.

Their own pilot swore, and dove beneath the ship that was in front of them, their own ship coming in low and hard into the ground.

Maybe she should have strapped in, for safety reasons, but then, Gamora wouldn't have seen the ejection. Years of living on ships had trained her to not even stumble, and besides, she had an inkling as to who the mystery pilot was. She scanned what she could see of the ground as dirt and rocks flew up underneath their wheels, throwing debris and shaking the ship violently. 

Terran technology was so outdated. Or, maybe she had been spoiled by ships that had anti-gravity. She considered this for a moment. No, no, it was definitely outdated Terran tech.

Their ship stopped moving and the two men in the back unbuckled, Hawk Guy turning to point at her. "Sit down, strap in, and don't leave." He slid a door shut, blocking off the cockpit from her.

Gamora cocked her head, considering him for a moment, then pursed her lips. She sat down in what was Roger’s seat, not bothering to buckle in.

Hawk Guy grumbled to himself and looked at a set of cuffs nearby, as if contemplating using them on her. Sighing heavily, he turned around and jogged out off the ship, an arrow nocked against his bow, ready to be drawn.

What a strange man.

Then again, any Terran she's known has always been strange. Her sample size might be very small, but that didn’t make it any less true.

Ignoring the cockpit, Gamora got up and opened the wall panels, any door or crate she could find, the first aid-kit, bathroom door, interfacing, computer UI panelling. There was nothing of interest outside of the irregular brown stickers. 

Twenty minutes passed, then thirty. She was growing bored.

Gamora leaned back and swung her feet, waiting, as she listened in on the communications from Rogers and Hawk Guy to the pilot. They found the parachute and seat, they found footprints, they found the crashed ship, but they couldn't find the pilot.

Ships were good for transportation and for living in, but Gamora absently thought of the ease the space stone would have brought in getting to Stark and the others. The ships here were so slow, small, and loud. Unfortunately, that was their mission here. To find the stones before Thanos did. She also couldn’t say what the others would do while in possession of an infinity stone. They tended to go to one’s head. Sometimes literally. 

There was a soft padding of feet approaching the ship from outside. They weren't the loud and heavy strides of Hawk Guy and Rogers.

Gamora watched Natasha slip into the ship, as good as — maybe even better — than Gamora herself could have done. They made eye contact and the red-headed woman winked at her, pressing her index finger to her lips, asking for silence. She then pulled a panel away from the wall, and slid into the space. It was as if she hadn't even been there.

Gamora tried not to look too smug when the two men returned, empty-handed. 

##

Tony woke up to an empty bedroom, and was about to call for Pepper and Morgan when he remembered.

He remembered his lost life and wondered why he took the deal. Why did he agree to go somewhere away from his family? The decision he made in the soul stone had made sense at the time, but now that he was awake again, he couldn’t fathom his reasoning. He could have just moved on. Maybe there was an afterlife, and maybe there wasn’t, but being able to see a version of Pepper that wasn’t his wife was actually hell. 

He was dead and in hell. 

Surrounded by people he knew, loved, and, in Obie’s case, hated. A place where Tony remembered things that they didn’t — no, couldn’t remember. It hadn’t happened to them. Different things happened to them. He was a stranger in a strange land, but the land wasn’t strange — he was strange. He was a sad, strange, little man who was trapped in hell, and instead of resting after saving the universe, he had decided to take the challenge of defeating Thanos again, even though he was  _ so fucking tired.  _

If it had been Natasha or Vision that had ended up in Stark Tower, it would have been better on Tony’s mind. He knew that. They knew him. There wasn’t anything really awkward between them — well, outside of Natasha siding with Steve during their so-called Civil War. Okay, so there were some awkward feelings, but it had been nearly a decade since then. The betrayal still hurt a little, but he wasn’t afraid of them. Tony wasn’t really afraid of Loki either, but there were some lingering bad feelings, despite having Thor tell him that Loki had changed. Having to stop someone from trying to conquer your planet and all the fighting that entailed had a habit of leaving some bad vibes. 

But then again, those talks Thor and Tony had had after Thanos vanished half the universe really just made it sound like Loki was a dumb, scared kid with powers, and an unfortunate ability to manipulate and be manipulated. 

A kid that was almost a thousand years old, but, then again, age was just a number. You could be a dumbass at any age, and Thor’s family—and Tony himself, at times—seemed to be the perfect example of that. Thor was good people, an amazing warrior, intelligent, funny, and a whole slew of other positive words that he was too lazy to think up of, but he hadn’t started that way. Their first meeting when they had fought in the Black Forest hadn’t spelled out a positive relationship for them to foster.

Tony covered his eyes with his left forearm. They had many talks, him and Thor up in Norway. Thor trying to drink himself into a stupor and Tony telling him to get help. Recognizing the signs of PTSD in a fucking  _ god;  _ the self-destructive behaviour, the flashbacks, the emotional detachment—oh boy, that one was obvious—surfacing in the fear, the anxiety, how he had locked himself away, the guilt. Tony had been able to walk near Thor and feel the weight of that guilt on his shoulders  _ eating him alive. _

Thor had lost his home, his father, mother, brother. His people had been slaughtered by Thanos. There was so much loss that surrounded Thor, and then to have the pressure, the knowledge that if he had just aimed a  _ little _ higher, half the population wouldn’t have been erased by Thanos. That even more people died from incidental dustings. 

Tony had felt that burden himself, but he had been able to pour his time, love, and resources into his life with Pepper and Morgan. To turn off that part of his brain that felt the guilt, the part that mourned the surrounding loss. Thor hadn’t had that. His people had become a small village that essentially governed themselves. They didn’t need a warrior king. 

He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at his arm. Loki’s magic— _ advanced science, _ there had to be a scientific reason behind it—had worked some wonders. It looked more like a scar now than it had before, with red and grey travelling up towards his heart. It still looked like he had dipped his right side into a pot of asphalt and then unsuccessfully tried to peel it off, but it was still much better than before. 

Tony made his way into the shower, a half smile on his lips. Making everyone think Loki’s name was Lolo might have put a target on his back, but there was a chance that he may have accidentally out-mischiefed the god of mischief. Or was it goddess, now? He’d have to ask if it was an illusion or an actual, honest to god,  _ shapeshifting _ —

He thought of what he had said to Loki before he had fallen asleep. Telling Loki that she was okay to be herself, had felt right at that moment, but once Tony had awoken, he felt wary of her again. Maybe it had been the initial shock of coming back from the dead, and now with him refreshed, he was suspicious again. 

He would try to do Thor right and give his sibling the benefit of the doubt.

Tony hoped this world would give the Merchant of Death a second chance too. 

The water poured over Tony, the heat of it nearly burning his skin. That was a good thing, though; the pain was a reminder that he was alive, that he was here, this was now, the past was the past, and the future was on its way. “The past is the past. The past is the past. I need to make my new future. I can’t go back. I can’t change it. The past is the past,” he whispered, quickly, as if it were a mantra spiraling up to an unseen god. 

Tony would need to acknowledge that what had been his life was dead, mourn it, learn from it, cherish the happiness of it, and try to move on and make a new one. This was another chance, not just for him, but the others. It was a chance to make things better for others. 

He didn’t know how his life would end up, here in this alternate reality. That was the future, and he definitely was no mystical fortune-teller or mysterious seer. He also couldn’t rely on his knowledge of his past, because it didn’t align with what was here. There were too many unknown factors, too many moving pieces, and he didn’t even know everything that had already happened. The Chitauri invasion had definitely occurred, but what else had happened along the way?

“JARVIS, did a SHIELD agent named Phil Coulson die during the Chitauri invasion?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. I do not have access to the files of covert intelligence organizations. I am flattered that you think I do.” 

Tony sighed and grabbed the shampoo, working it into his scalp as he thought. Clean hair stimulated the brain, because it made you feel like less of a dirty child. At least, that was what his third nanny used to say as she attacked his scalp. Fearsome woman, that Agnes. 

He would need to infiltrate SHIELD's computer network and read up on their files regarding everyone he had known. Where they were now and what was known—“JARVIS, has SHIELD undergone any major…incidents recently? A purge, maybe?”

“Not that I can say, but as I said, I do not have access to the files of covert intelligence organizations, although I suspect that will be changing in the near future.”

“Damn right, it will be. I got a few software upgrades that you are going to love, buddy.”

“I am delighted,” Jarvis replied in a neutral tone. God, he loved JARVIS. 

So, HYDRA was still hiding inside SHIELD. Pierce and the Winter Soldier. Why hadn’t it come out yet? Was it because Natasha was dead? How had she died, anyways? Jesus, what had happened with AIM? He hadn’t been there to interfere with Killian’s plans, so were the explosions still happening? JARVIS should at least have access to the news. 

“Have there been any attacks carried out by a terrorist group known as the Ten Rings? Lead by the Mandarin?”

A panel in front of him lit up and a whole bevy of news articles appeared. The attacks had lasted longer here than in his original reality. He flicked through the articles, following the timeline of events. Tony raised a brow when he saw just who had stopped AIM. A picture of Steve onboard the oil tanker, his suit burned, shield across his back, looking out into the horizon with a frown. It was a clearly a candid shot, one taken without Steve’s knowledge. Tony had noticed early on that Steve was awkward when a camera was in front of him. 

But, if Steve was oblivious to it, well, that’s when the supermodel broke out.

Ugh. Tony rested his forehead on the wall and sighed. His relationship with Steve had always been odd, to say the least. His father’s obsession with him, the stories he had grown up with, and then when they met it had been so awkward and angry and so much posturing. Stupid, golden retriever. Zero out of ten, would not recommend. And then there was the split—according to the media, the “civil war”—that they went through. An apt name, loathe as he was to admit it. 

Tony clenched his fist. Then stopped immediately as a small twinge of pain shot up his left arm. Oh, that still hurt. Great. He had been right about the Accords, and his opinion on the matter hadn’t changed, but the real fight—his real anger—had come after finding out Steve had lied to him for what was likely years. He had kept the secret of his parents’ murder from him. He could forgive Barnes, after getting over the initial shock and all that jazz, because the man had been brainwashed, hadn’t been himself, and was being used by HYDRA at the time. In the heat of the moment, he had attacked Barnes. Tony could definitely say that wasn’t one of his proudest moments. The real kicker was the betrayal of Steve fucking Rogers. His father’s friend that sat on the secret of his murder for years. 

“Sir, your heart rate has increased exponentially.”

Tony noticed his pulse roaring in his ears, the minute trembling in his body. Deep breath in — hold it — deep breath out. Tony did that for nine repetitions before he felt his heart calm down. “Thanks JARVIS,” he said shakily, sucking in another breath.  

Time to not think about Steve. He would surely end up meeting this reality’s version of Captain Spangles, and he would need to put this behind him. This Steve would not have done what Tony’s Steve did. He needed to separate past from present. 

Compartmentalize.  

The whole situation was a mess, but he was Tony Stark, and he would take this mess and make something from it. He was back from the dead, like his name was Loki. 

“JARVIS, are Pepper and Obadiah still in the tower?”

“Mr. Stane is on the balcony taking a call, and Miss Potts is on her laptop in dining area.”

“And Loki?” 

“I have not been able to read Miss Loki on the sensors since she placed you in the bedroom.”

Damn. “Okay. JARVIS, I want you to mark Obie as a hostile and record everything he says or does, and I will need to be notified immediately when he shows up.”

“As you wish.”

Tony turned off the water and as he went to get a towel, realized there were none. Did they really build this tower to just have it and not use it? What the hell, guys. At least have towels. His tower had towels.

He left the bathroom, leaving wet footprints in the carpet. The room Loki had brought him into was barren for the most part. Bed, chair, dresser, lamp, mirror, ogling goddess of mischief, and absolutely no towels. 

The closet yielded nothing. “JARVIS, can you order some clothes? Just some basic stuff. I’ll get the bespoke later.”

Tony turned to Loki, who didn’t even have the dignity to look ashamed for staring. “No chance you can magic me some clothes?” Come to think of it, what were the cultural norms on Asgard regarding nudity? And regarding, well, everything in general, now that his interest was piqued. Thor was never one to speak much about that part of Asgard. These were questions for a later time. 

“I doubt you would like the Asgardian style, and as it is, you would just be nude with an illusion over top.” 

Tony pursed his lips and gave Loki a long look. “Are…are you going to do that when you run out of Pepper’s clothes?”

Loki stood up and tugged her shirt, straightening it slightly. “As if I would tell you.”

“JARVIS, when you get readings of Loki again, make sure to tell me her state of dress.”

There was an odd silence that emanated from the walls, as if the AI found the question awkward. “Of course, sir.” There was a pause. “I will take this opportunity to inform you that Miss Potts is on her way.”

Tony swore and made his way into the bathroom, retrieving his pants. 

Loki followed him and stuck her head into the bathroom. “Let me do the talking about Sakaar. You can do your technology and I can do stories.”

Tony slid his pants up and nodded to Loki as a knocking rang through the room. 

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice rang out. “I know you probably asked Jarvis to do this already, but I popped down and got you some clothes.”

He sidled out of the bathroom, past Loki, and opened the bedroom door. Pepper stood on the other side with a dry cleaning bag. “Pepper, you’re a lifesaver,” Tony said, as he took the bag and unzipped it, looking at the suit. Good stuff. 

Pepper’s gaze was distant, looking over his shoulder. Tony glanced and saw Loki perched on the dresser, her back to the wall, watching them. Absolute troublemaker. Would probably soon be knocking glasses filled with various liquids over.

“Pepper?” Tony waved a hand, hoping she would pay attention to the real thing worth looking at. Him. 

“Oh, yes. I heard talking, and I was hoping you were feeling better, and—oh my god, Tony, what happened to your chest?”

Tony looked down, just the slightest bit confused, until he saw the scar from the arc reactor. It was old and faded, but clearly abnormal, the indent where a piece of his sternum used to be. “Oh. That. Yeah — .” He stopped himself when he saw what Pepper was doing. 

Pepper had reached out, her fingers hovering over the scar before she pulled it back, almost looking ashamed that she had reacted that way. “Jesus, Tony…” Her gaze shifted and travelled to his arm. “What happened to you?”

He shrugged. “Life.” At least the damage on his arm and face had begun to hopefully heal into something that wasn’t quite as shocking as the indent on his chest. 

“That isn’t life…that seems like hell.”

Tony bit his lip, thinking back to his Pepper, Morgan, and all his friends and family. “Knowing the right people can make it tolerable.” He stared at her, taking her features in. There were fewer wrinkles—not that his Pepper had many. This Pepper was younger, and hadn’t been through the harrowing stress that Tony had kept putting on her, time after time. This Pepper...was free of him. 

Pepper had, fortunately, been looking at Loki, not noticing his staring. She blinked. “Oh. Well, as long as the two of you are happy, I’m happy for you,” she said, looking back to smile brightly at Tony. 

It was Tony’s turn to blink at Pepper for a moment, shaken out of his thoughts, as if the words she had said were nonsensical. The part of his brain that parsed information confirmed that, no, Pepper did in fact imply that Loki and Tony were doing the do. The horizontal tango. Making the beast with two backs. “What? No. No, no, no, no, Lok—Lolo and I are just friends. Honestly, we barely know each other, practically strangers.” He turned and looked at Loki. “ _ Right?” _

“It’s true. If he actually did know me, he would know my real name isn’t  _ Lolo. _ ” She glared at him through lidded eyes. He could almost feel the skin on his back peeling off to join its brethren in burned-skin land. 

Pepper raised a delicately manicured eyebrow at the two of them. “It’s not? What should I call you, then?”

Tony turned around and pursed his lips at Loki. “Yeah, Lolo, what should we call you?”

Loki raised her nose in the air. “I won’t tell you.”

Tony had a hard time suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, but he did it. He didn’t, however, manage to contain the twitch of his lips. “Just going to be obstinate?”

“Of course.” Her eyes slid to Pepper. He had the odd urge to stand in front of Pepper, as though to keep her away from Loki’s poisonously green eyes. 

Tony sighed. “Anyways, now I’m more hungry than I am tired. We’re going to tell you all about Sakaar and our daring escape.”

Pepper smiled softly. “I’d like to hear about it. Get dressed and we’ll heat the food up.” She closed the door and he could hear her heels clicking away down the hall. Well, that could have gone worse. He glanced over at Loki, who had walked over to the clear section of the wall that made up the window and was staring out into the busy New York traffic. 

“JARVIS,” Tony stripped out of the guards khaki pants and began to put on the suit Pepper had brought him, “Dial Rhodey.”

He held up the tie, trying to decide if he would wear it. No, thought Tony, tossing it on the bed, it was easier to strangle people with ties. 

A familiar voice rang throughout the room. “Tony?”

“Yep, it’s me. How are you doing, Mister-soon-to-be-Potts?”

There was a chuckle. “So, Pepper told you, huh?”

“I think the size of that ring broadcasted that. You must have used over half of what I willed to you for that stone.”

“Your assets haven’t been dissolved yet. Don’t you go trying to take credit for it.” 

“Perish the thought. Hey, you remember that thing I called you about earlier?”

There was silence at the other end of the phone line for about three seconds. “Tony, how could I forget you calling me about an angry green lady? She’s been picked up and is being taken to the Triskelion.” 

Oh. Not good. No bueno. Definitely not good. “The Triskelion? Why not one of the Air Force bases?”

“Wasn’t an Air Force operation. SHIELD heard it first, organized it first, so they get to call it first.”

Tony swore. With HYDRA still in charge, Gamora ran the chance of being whisked away and experimented on for the rest of time. He needed to act fast. “Okay, thanks for letting me know. When are you going to come and visit? I promise you don’t have to wait until I get DNA tested.”

There was a chuckle. “I’ll be there when they read the results.” Rhodey fell silent for a brief moment. ”Tony, it’s good to have you back.” His voice was heartbreakingly sincere.

Tony smiled weakly, even though Rhodey couldn’t see it. “It’s good to be back.” He cleared his throat. “Alright, I have to go things to do, ruffles to feather, all that.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it—we’ll talk later.” Rhodey hung up.

Tony gave Loki a quick look as he threw on the jacket. “Can you magic us out of here?”

Loki shrugged. Tony took that as a yes.

Tony looked in the mirror and smoothed out his suit. “JARVIS, I need you to make a few more calls.” He told the AI the plan and directed how it would go. By his estimates, they probably only had a few hours before Gamora was gone. 

##

Loki slipped her borrowed heels back on. The two of them had descended nearly thirty flights of stairs in order to avoid Stark’s elevators that required a bio-scan if you were to use them above the sixty-fifth floor. When she had asked about his JARVIS being able to mask their presence, he had mumbled something about Stane being paranoid enough not to trust JARVIS and to have likely installed his own security program. One that was likely on high alert, now that Stark was back from the dead. He also mumbled something about them not having enough time to hack it, and sounded quite irritated by that. 

The elevator moved downwards, and she was able to look at the city with a more critical eye. Her counterpart had clearly caused more mayhem than she had. There were more holes in the ground in a much wider radius than she had ever been able to attack. The Avengers from her time had kept the Chitauri in a tightly controlled area, close to ten blocks, but here, it looked like it had spread further out to the waterline, and with more destruction. One of the bridges in the distance was under construction. The Avengers here had definitely been found wanting. 

Loki shook her head. That thought had almost sounded as if she was proud of the ones from home. Was she proud of the ones from her reality? She began to go through the list. She was proud of Thor. He was her brother and, despite everything they had gone through, she loved him. She could admit that, now. Now. Stark was acceptable…for a human—he did manage to wield the Infinity Gauntlet, after all. The others had been formidable foes, but they had luck on their side, and therefore bore no further thought, Romanov included. 

Had Loki truly been in control of her faculties, if it had been her own ambition to have the Tesseract, to dominate humanity, then she would have come up with a better plan. A much better one, one that would have worked. One where she hadn’t deliberately set herself up for failure. If she had conquered Earth, she would have been forced to fight her father and Thor after Thanos had taken the Tesseract and the Scepter. Loki would have been in control of a planet that hated her because she had used force to subjugate them, instead of her preferred method: trickery. Politics was a much smoother way of going about things. No matter where you went, it was all the same, from Asgard to Midgard. 

Loki could reasonably say, without any trace of boasting—considering her faults, of course—that she hadn’t been a poor ruler of Asgard. More laid-back, calmer —alright,  maybe she ignored policing the nine realms a bit, but,  _ really, _ they should have been able to handle that by themselves. What use was it to have an empire that wasn’t self-sufficient? 

She was pulled from her thoughts by Stark staring at his hand, waving it back and forth, looking like a loon. “You sure we’re invisible, bongo?” 

Loki suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the inane names Stark came up with. What in the Nine Realms was a bongo? “Would you prefer that you couldn’t see yourself? It’s very disconcerting. The mind has a hard time processing it.” Not that it wasn’t fun to do that to someone and convince them that they were a ghost. Obviously, she had never done that.

“No, no. It’s fine. Are they seeing an empty elevator?”

Loki ignored his question as the elevator doors opened and a flustered looking man entered the elevator, frantically pressing the ground floor button. 

Stark pressed himself up against the wall, avoiding all potential contact with the man. 

Loki, on the other hand, a devious grin on her lips that made Stark visibly nervous, blew into the man’s ear.

He slapped the side of his head and looked around, the tip of his nose barely missing Loki’s chin before he turned back to face the door.

Stark violently waved a hand at her before mouthing, “Stop!”

Loki smirked, mischief in her eyes, as she began to move strands of his hair with the tip of her finger. 

The man shook his head again and looked up to the elevator ceiling, glaring at the air conditioning vent. 

Stark carefully shimmied around the man to Loki and grabbed her wrists. “Stop that!” he whispered. 

The man whipped his head around. “Freaking haunted,” he muttered angrily to himself.  

Loki bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh at the overly serious expression on Stark’s face. 

The elevator door opened at the ground floor and the man got off, the two of them following him out the front door and into the bustling sidewalk. Stark had yet to release her right wrist. “That wasn’t funny,” he said, body tense.

“Yes, it was.” She smiled blithely. Stark’s right eye twitched in response. She smiled wider. 

They began to make their way north, bumping into people that couldn’t see them, Loki jostling into people a bit harder than needed. When they stood at crosswalks waiting for the light to turn, she would use her free hand to pick the occasional pocket. It wasn’t like she or Stark had any available money. Stark’s assets would likely be tied up for a while, as they brought him back from the dead, and she was, as the Midgardians succinctly said, a broke-ass bitch. Loki did love the Midgardians’ turn of phrases. 

Ah, the burden of privilege, not allowing for her to grow up with any reasonable skills to make a living with. Curse her royal lineage. She couldn’t exactly go around advertising her skill in the magical arts, now could she?

Vehicles burdened with equipment drove past them at high speeds, which was impressive, given that it was currently rush hour in New York, and Loki could see that they were near their endpoint, which was absolutely packed with people and equipment. There was a man with a small mustache yelling very,  _ very  _ loudly, “GET ME PICTURES OF EVERYTHING!” at harried photographers. 

Their destination was what had been the former Stark Industries corporate offices, before Stark Tower had been built. Stark had determined that it was still a part of the company, but would be overlooked by Stane if he heard about this impromptu press conference before he was supposed to.

In front of the building was a bustling crowd of reporters, a podium set up at one end and microphones attached around it. 

“Miss Potts is going to be most displeased.” Loki murmured, looking around at the mayhem. 

Stark looked down, fiddling with his cufflinks. “An angry Pepper is worth making sure Gamora doesn’t get kidnapped by HYDRA. I love Pepper and I can handle her righteous fury,” he looked up at her, “What I can’t handle is the thought of someone being killed, or worse, because of my complacency.”

“What is HYDRA? I doubt it is what I think it is.”

“HYDRA is a super evil organization that is bent on world domination and subjugation, and has come close a few times. Where we’re originally from, Steve and Natasha were able to stop them, but here…well, there’s a chance we’re going to get fucking murdered at night in our underwear, if you wear underwear. Otherwise, you’d be naked.”

“Do they work in cells?”

Tony nodded. “As far as I know.”

“Why not just pretend you are a member of HYDRA? Claim you’re one of them, a deep cover operative that has been hidden away for decades.”

He spun around, giving her an incredulous look. “Because of three reasons, horn dog. One, they killed my parents. Two, I think they might be able to extrapolate from there that I’m not on their side. And three, I refuse to ever be associated with them outside of their destruction.” Stark ran a hand through his hair. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if Obie is one of them. Knowingly or unknowingly. God, I wish I had grabbed some food before we left. All that delicious Thai up in the tower, untouched.” Stark rambled, pacing back and forth in a small alcove away from potential run-ins with the congregating reporters. 

Loki sighed and made her way outside to one of those vendors with a large metal cart and purchased a twisted bread product from him, before making her way back to Stark, who had not noticed her absence. Midgardians. 

She jabbed him in the shoulder, a spot where she knew the nerves were alive, and held the pretzel in front of his face. “Eat.”

Stark stared at it for a second. “You brought me food?”

“No, I brought you your death in the form of tasty, tasty arsenic. You have two seconds to take it before I drop it on the ground.”

Stark snatched it from her fingers and sniffed it. “Even you wouldn't be as evil to poison a garlic butter pretzel.”

“Try me.” 

Tony ignored her and began to eat the snack, his face blissful at the first bit of food he had ingested in a while. “I owe you one, blackbuck.”

Loki turned away and watched the crowd. A blonde woman she recognized from clips of Stark’s past was there. A reporter, Everhart. History had a habit of repeating itself in amusing ways. This time, though, Stark would be revealing that he was alive to the world, not that he was Iron Man. 

By her estimate, they had about five minutes before the agreed upon time. Stark’s robotic assistant was a boon in their time of need, being able to organize this in a flash while also imposing a small information blackout on the other residents of Stark Tower’s penthouse. 

Stark slid up next to her licking his fingers. “Alright. Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yes.” Loki shook out her hair. 

Stark brushed off his hands. “Let’s go.”

She dropped the spell that hid them from view and Stark approached the podium, climbing it with surprising grace. Cameras began flashing wildly, reporters began yelling. Simply put, there was pandemonium, and she got to watch it from the back, since they weren’t even paying any attention to her. Stark must have been a big deal when he had died. 

“Quiet down, quiet down,” Stark commanded, gesturing with his hands for the reporters to lower the volume. “I will first make my statement, and then we can get to questions.” Stark straightened his tie. “I have called you here today to announce my return to the land of the living. Today, around eleven A.M, I returned to Earth, after being off-planet since my abduction six years ago.” 

There were raised hands in the crowd, a few shouts, all of which Stark ignored. 

“Six years ago, when my caravan was attacked, I entered an area between realities and ended up on a different planet known as Sakaar.”

##

Pepper stormed through the halls of the penthouse, throwing each door open, searching for Tony and Lolo, Obadiah’s guards doing the same. She was beyond enraged. Pepper could hear Tony on the television as Obadiah watched the press conference that Tony had snuck off to have. She couldn’t believe that he would cut her out of it. That he would sneak behind her and Obadiah’s back to do this. She had just spoken to him a mere hour ago! To his face!

She opened the door to her suite, her spare clothes thrown around like the alien had been unable to decide how to pair the pieces, along with what looked like all the towels in the tower hastily kicked under the bed. Wait. Had Lolo taken her favorite pair Louboutins that she’d left here the last time she had been in the tower? That Lolo better not have damaged them in any way, shape, or form, or there would be hell to pay. Those shoes had been with her during many troubling times, and Pepper was not going to see them scuffed in her life. 

Pepper made her way back to the main area where Obadiah was sitting with a whiskey in his hand, watching the press conference with furrowed brows. 

“You think that’s really Tony?” Pepper asked him.

Obadiah nodded. “Without a doubt. Running off half-cocked for some reason or another has always been a tool under his belt.”

Pepper sat down next to him, slumping forward. “I’m going to beat him up.”

Obadiah chuckled and sat up. “I think we’re going to have to queue up for that privilege.”

One of the guards returned to the room with bloody bandages. Pepper suppressed a shiver at the sight. “These should work, sir.” 

Obadiah nodded. “Take them down and get them tested against our samples. We need to confirm that’s our Tony.” 

Pepper felt that he said that last part mostly for her benefit than the guards. 

Tony voice rang out through the room and Pepper watched his speech with trepidation. “My friends and I escaped from Sakaar today. A SHIELD plane is currently carrying one of my friends, Gamora, to the Triskelion. She came through a portal in Afghanistan—I suspect maybe the same one that I left through. I am hoping that she and I will be reunited with the aid of SHIELD and their benevolent Director.” He held out a hand, and Lolo stepped up. “I didn’t think that an alien invasion would have happened between my departure and arrival, but I, and my friends, like Lolo here,” he hissed suddenly in pain, like a pointed heel had just entered the top of his foot, “Are excited that the world has grown to the point where non-humans are known and hopefully, accepted. She comes in peace. I promise.”

Tony began to take questions, and Pepper turned back to Obadiah. “How does he know about SHIELD?”

“Good question.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father's day, Tony. Sorry we ripped you from your family and slammed you in a different world. (Sorry not sorry)
> 
> Also look up bongos and blackbucks if you like animals! They are types of antelopes found in Africa and India (plus Nepal and Pakistan), respectively.


	4. Pokemon Sword and S.H.I.E.L.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going up a bit early to celebrate Nanimok finishing her exams and returning to her one true love. The dishes. They're waiting for you. Go wash them. They need. Naughty dishes. So filthy.

Nick Fury entered the hangar and approached the grounded plane. It taxied to a stop, the cargo door opening to reveal Rogers, Barton, and Stark’s green alien, Gamora. The heat of the exhaust still in the air. 

Tony Stark’s sudden reappearance was surprising, to say the least. The man had vanished in Afghanistan six years ago, apparently killed during an attack by the Ten Rings, but now, now, he stood in Manhattan declaring that he had been on an alien planet.

There were a lot of things out there. Things that Fury didn’t know or merely suspected existed. Aliens, gods and super soldiers were part of his daily life now, so why shouldn’t freshly resurrected arms dealers with a harem of alien women be a new addition? 

He had sent agents to retrieve Stark and his companion before the man's impromptu press conference had even ended. The man and his alien had been separated and were waiting apart in one of SHIELD’s briefing rooms for the last few hours as Fury waited for Rogers to arrive. If Stark was willing to share the knowledge he had gained while off-world, it would further SHIELD’s ability to defend their little corner of the galaxy just a bit better. Ever since Loki’s attack had nearly destroyed New York, they had been shaken. Uncertain of their ability to protect themselves from an outward attack. He couldn’t just call up Danvers for every little thing that had popped up. As it was, she yelled at him for waiting so long to contact her during the Battle of New York. Had said he was lucky she was nearby and could intervene. SHIELD could handle anything less than an invasion of gods. 

If Stark had allies and knowledge, Fury would get that information. Anything for an edge. 

Rogers and Barton stood on each side of the woman, who was staring him down, like she was appraising just how easily she could squash him. 

“So, you’re the one who made a hardcore terrorist cell get onto an open frequency and beg for help.”

She didn’t say anything. Not that he had really given her anything to respond to. 

“Well, it’s good that Colonel Rhodes’ information was correct,” Fury said to Barton and Rogers. “Now, Miss, do you know Tony Stark?”

She nodded, still wary. 

“Can you tell me how you know him?”

She narrowed her eyes, but remained silent. Alright, then. 

“Miss, now that you are a guest on planet Earth, I think we should go over some rules. As a guest, it is required that we can vet that you are not an enemy of humanity, and since you just finished making minced meat of a group of highly armed men, it makes me wonder if you can be trusted.”

Gamora looked at the two men flanking her. “I didn’t kill _them_ ,” she said, as if her not killing Barton or Rogers was evidence of her friendliness. 

Barton snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you try.” 

She focused in on him. “Gladly.”

Rogers slid his shield between the two of them. “No fighting.”

Gamora’s expression was that of a cat who was ready to smack her food around for a bit, before she turned from Barton. “Stark arranged for my pick-up. I wish to see him.”

“You will see him when I let you see him. Rogers, Barton, let’s bring our _guest_ to a holding cell while I confer with the others.” 

He turned, leading the three into the Triskelion proper. They had intentionally left Stark and his guest stewing for hours, banking on the fact that the man would be more volatile, more likely to accidentally reveal something that he hadn’t intended to. 

Stark’s little stunt had pushed the media into a hotbed of excitement. Supposedly, he was back from the dead and with aliens. As if there could be a bigger news story this year; they couldn't hide this, couldn’t cover it up, or make it go away. Fury opened the door to where the cells were. Stark must have known that there was a chance that his friend would have been whisked off into the unknown if he hadn’t made a public statement…

The CEO of Stark Industries was on the phone with Hill, demanding that they release Tony. Fury could already smell the lawyers. 

“I’m sorry but you need to get in the cell,” Rogers said, gesturing for her to enter it.

Fury watched as she cocked her head to the side, her hands on her hips. “No. As a guest of this planet, I refuse to be locked in a cage by strangers. Don’t…don’t you have a rule about making a call if you have been taken hostage? Let me make my call.” 

Barton’s brow furrowed, and he looked at Fury with confusion etched on his face. “How do you know that?”

“I was right!” She pointed at Barton. “Let me have my call!” 

“That’s only if you’re arrested. Right now, you’re being detained,” Fury answered. He eyed her in curiosity. “Do you guys watch movies up in space?”

Gamora shifted, her chin jutting out. “I have been told many stories of this planet. Some fictional, some not. I know that Michael Knight would not allow you to break your laws like this.”

Rogers looked as lost as Fury felt confused. “You know about Knight Rider?” Fury asked.

“And the A-Team,” she snapped back, haughtily. 

Barton was blinking. “Am I dreaming? I feel like I’m dreaming.” 

“Kevin Bacon would never stand for this. I _demand_ to see Kevin Bacon.” She crossed her arms, reminding Fury of middle-aged moms demanding to see the manager. 

Fury blinked slowly at her demands to see the Hollywood actor. Of the things he thought would happen today, being yelled at by an alien demanding to see Kevin Bacon was at the very bottom of the list. If it wasn’t for SHIELD having a strong no-pranking policy—not that it had ever stopped certain people—he would have sworn that Barton had arranged everything. 

“I have so many questions,” Rogers muttered. “How does an alien know the same amount of pop culture as me?” 

Fury tuned out Barton’s snarky reply. 

“Miss. Please get in the cell. When I’m done with Stark, we’ll bring you out to see him.”

She gave them a cold look before stepping into the small room. 

##

Natasha had waited until the pilot had left the plane and the hangar was mostly empty before sliding out from her hiding spot. Having been curled up in a small space for several hours, her back and legs ached fiercely. 

She stretched in the privacy that she had for the next few moments, working out the kinks in her body by popping her shoulders and back. Running her fingers through her hair, she lingered at the base of her skull. Natasha must have hit it a few times during the ride, though she didn’t remember that happening, strangely enough. It felt raw and bruised, on top of one killer headache. She could ignore the hindrance, though.

Alright, step one. Find Tony, Gamora, Vision, or, heaven forbid, Loki. Step two, figure it out from that point. 

Not the best plan, admittedly, but it was the only one she had. Tony clearly had an angle already, based on what Natasha had heard the pilot talking about over the comms. 

Moving into the pilot’s seat, she lifted the hatch beneath it and slid into the belly of the plane, out of the hole where the landing gear was, and darted up into the building. Entering the changing rooms, she scanned the area to find a quick disguise. 

Natasha was fairly well known in her reality, but hopefully, her counterpart didn’t have the whole world knowing her face. Still, she cut off her ombre locks, grabbed a SHIELD hat, a pair of sunglasses, an admin outfit and made her way into the Triskelion. Gamora would likely be in a cell, waiting to be interrogated by Fury. Tony would likely be surrounded and out in public. Being bossy and demanding, as was his usual behaviour among people. 

The flight deck had shared with the pilot that Tony Stark was working with an alien woman and since Natasha had been with Gamora, it wasn’t _her._ Odd. She had a feeling that something wasn’t right. 

Natasha ducked through the hallways, a stolen clipboard giving her an impervious air as she went to a terminal, logging in with Clint’s user information. Over sixteen years and he still hadn’t changed it. Classic Clint, she thought fondly. 

She flicked through the page, finding Gamora listed as being in a cell five stories above her. Tony was in a conference room on the thirty-second floor and… _Lolo?_ Was two doors down?

Natasha pulled up a security feed of the room with the alien known as Lolo in it and felt herself almost lurching forward, a laugh caught in her throat. _Loki?_

Oh, this was rich. 

She closed out of the computer and made her way up, ducking her head when Rumlow and Sitwell walked past, caught up in a whispered conversation. She had taken into account that they may still be alive here, but Natasha hadn’t expected to come face to face with them for some time. 

Not that she didn’t have fun yeeting Sitwell off the side of a building. Oh, yes, she’ll be ahead of the meme culture this time around. 

Head west down the hallway, head up the elevator for fifteen floors, break open the stairwell, head up the remaining sixteen floors, and disable the cameras where Tony was being held. 

Simple. 

##

Tony paced in the room, looking out at the Washington skyline. Loki had been dropped off in a briefing room and locked in before Tony had been left in this one. He didn’t know what Thor’s sibling was up to, but there hadn’t been any communication from her. He wasn’t going to lie; he honestly thought that she would have dropped out from the ceiling vents within fifteen minutes of their arrival. 

It had been a few hours. 

God, he was bored out of his fucking skull. He should have asked Loki to steal one of the bodyguards' phones. He could have been calling so many people instead of doing nothing for what felt like three hundred million years. Not that he didn’t know their game. Lock someone up and let them stew, how unoriginal. He wasn’t going to let them break him. Nope. He was stronger than that. 

Okay, just how bad would it be, if Tony were to be completely honest? If he told Fury that he was from a different reality, and that this one’s Tony had died. 

Well, Fury would probably think he was crazy, until Tony told him about all the HYDRA agents working here, and after that, he would get a nice target painted on his back. He’d probably lose his company, and Obadiah would lock him out. Again. Although, that might happen anyways, knowing him.

Loki would likely be sent to Asgard for punishment, or SHIELD would take him—her? He’ll just go with them to make things easier on his brain—and put them in jail. No bueno. 

Natasha would land on her feet, because who can say no to a spy who was even more experienced than everyone thought and was considered dead? That was, like, extra good spy stuff. Bound to score some points in Fury’s good books.  

Vision, wherever he was, would probably end up fine, doing superhero stuff. It wasn’t in his nature to hurt anyone. 

##

Vision flew through space, searching for any sort of vessel to carry him to Earth. He had been going for hours and was barely at one of Titan’s moons. If he was two thousand light years from Earth which was 1.2e+15 miles away, if he could manage a mile a minute, it would only take him 2,283,105,022 years to arrive at his destination.

He needed a ship.

##

Gamora, on Earth, would probably be okay. In space, being chased by Thanos, also probably not too bad. She would have her friends, those dumb Guardians of the Galaxy or whatever, but when Thanos wanted the soul stone again…she would be at even greater risk of death. Poor kid. She and Nebula both. 

Tony sighed heavily. Nebula. She was a good person. Kid, really. Messed up beyond belief, guilt-ridden, but a good kid. He would always have a soft spot for his blue meanie. There was something about almost dying together that could make people good friends, but even if that hadn’t bonded through near-certain death, Tony would have liked Nebula.

The sound of the door unlocking drew him from his thoughts. It was about time. Fury was probably going to do his typical cloak and dagger bullshit to try and scare him. Or, maybe he would try to make Tony feel insignificant. Either way, he would try to prove Fury wrong. 

God, is that what had happened all those years ago? Had he been negged? 

It had totally worked, too. He felt like slapping his past self. Eh, he had kind of gotten revenge on his past self by sending him into cardiac arrest. 

Tony turned, expecting to see the dour face of Nick Fury, but was instead greeted by Natasha, who gave him a cheeky grin before closing the door.

She lowered the glasses down her nose, looking at him from over the top. “Can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you? Don’t worry, I disabled the microphones before coming in.”

“You know me, Nat. I’m a trouble magnet.” He sat down on the table. “Where did you land? I popped in where I _died_ , can you imagine that? _”_

She pursed her lips and pulled out a chair. “Siberia, the HYDRA bunker. I was able to steal an old Russian fighter jet from there.” Natasha’s eyes stayed on him, unrelenting, yet sympathetic. 

Tony’s jaw clenched, the joint in it clicking hard. Oh, so she just fucking landed in the spot where he almost killed Steve and vice versa. Great. Also, why. He wanted answers from that old man. “Huh.”

“Speaking of HYDRA,” Natasha strode forward and sat down next to him, “We’re in a den of highly dangerous, highly suspect agents right now, and we need to come up with some sort of cover story. I managed to overhear a bit of what you’ve developed, but not all of it.” Then she smiled, and it was the sort of smile that made Tony a little scared of what was going to come out of her mouth next. “Is the hottie in the other room Loki?”

Tony leaned back, relieved, about to tell Natasha that really, they were in a den of snakes, when that British accent—come to think of it, did all Asgardians sound like they came from Buckingham Palace?—of growing familiarity spoke out. “Is my disguise truly that transparent?”

Tony could have sworn Natasha’s head didn’t move, but another part of him would swear that it did a full 360 in a nanosecond. He, on the other hand, slowly turned to the head of the table where, he was about to affectionately nickname, Lady Loki sat with her lips pursed and arms crossed. She looked rather put out. 

“How long have you been there?”

“The entire time. Now, really, is my disguise truly that subpar?” 

“Well, Lolo,” there was the death glare again, “It’s obvious to _us_ because we know you need a disguise and that you’re one of Team Soul Squad.”

“Team Soul Squad?” Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow and looking far too amused. He magnanimously ignored her.  

“It’s okay, we won’t reveal anything to anyone, dearest Tommy Wiseau. Don’t want you getting pulled up to Asgard.”

Loki rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. Going to Asgard and being thrown in jail or executed. How unbearable to imagine. I simply cannot handle the notion.” 

“Enough banter, you two.” Natasha had stood up. Spoilsport. “I need to get the cover story to Gamora before she says anything.” Okay, maybe not a spoilsport. They had important things to get done. 

“She’s here already?”

“Downstairs. We came in on the same bird.”

He glanced over to Loki. “Loki, can you give Natasha the cover story?”

Loki sat back and laid out the alien abduction story. That they had been on Sakaar and had escaped. That Gamora, Vision, and herself were aliens who had helped Tony escape through dimensional boundaries back to Earth. There was only one hole in their plan. ”However, we do not know how your alternate self died.” 

“Yeah, what about you, Nat? We don’t really have anything for you? Did you manage to figure out how off-brand Natasha died?”

Brand-name Natasha wrinkled her nose slightly, but her eyes were sparkling. “I saw what happened to my counterpart here, so I have an idea as to what to do.” She tapped on the panel to the door and strode out.

“Um, shouldn’t she tell us?” Tony asked, quietly.

Loki shrugged in a massively unconcerned way. “She seems to have it under control.” 

Tony felt a headache coming on.

##

Fury peered around the doorway to where the being known as Lolo was. During Stark’s press conference, she hadn’t said much, mainly standing there with a cool expression on her face. Now, she stood in front of the window, overlooking Washington and appearing as human as anyone else here. He had seen plenty of alien tech in the last twenty plus years, so something that changed appearances was par for the course. Covering up injuries seemed to be included in the package, since Lolo now had a massive ring of colorful bruises around her thin neck that hadn’t been there in the press conference. Whoever—or whatever—had given her a bruise that serious, must have been very angry. 

Then again, there had been the Skrulls who could alter their appearance with ease and Thor’s brother who could shift between appearances. The vastness of space ensured that there were many options for changing your appearance. Hell, SHIELD research and development had created the first prototype of the photostatic veil less than six months ago.  

Fury carried on to Stark’s room, ready for the man to bite his head off for leaving him alone for so long. At least, that’s what their profile from before his death implied would happen. Six years was a long time. Six years on an alien planet could change people in ways that no one expected, and Fury wasn’t one to be taken unexpected. 

Changing the glass’ settings so that he could see into the room, but whatever was inside couldn’t, Fury, instead of seeing a pacing Tony Stark, was greeted by the sight of Stark in the same pose as Lolo from the other room. Hands behind his back, watching the Potomac. It was eerie. He was fairly certain that if he looked at them side by side, it would be _exactly_ the same. Something was definitely wrong. 

He keyed in the code, noting the scrapes around the edges of the datapad, and entered the room. “Apologies for making you wait, Mister Stark, but since you’ve been gone, Earth has changed. There are certain protocols that we must follow, especially with people coming back from the dead.” He paused and levelled an intense look at Stark. “With _aliens.”_

Stark didn’t move a muscle, twitch an eye, or telekinetically move a piece of hair, which was vaguely disappointing. It gave him nothing to work with. “Why you people have a protocol for people coming back from the dead, bringing aliens with them, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to know, but you do you, Number Two.“ Stark moved from his imitative position and sat down on the table. “I was given a general brief on what happened. As I understand it, the leader of the invasion was killed in _my_ tower. Bit of a shock to have a tower in the first place, but to be told that I’ve walked over where someone died in it? Disconcerting.” 

Nothing put Fury off his footing, but people not being off their footing was annoying. Stark had barely reacted; there were no tells, no clues. “Indeed. Now, please tell me about your collection of lady aliens”

“Everyone is an alien, depending on how you look at it. Wanna join my collection? I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind sharing.” Stark winked with a flourish, turning to lay down all the way on the table and propped his head up with an arm. 

“Cute, Mister Stark, but I need to know if you have anymore friends following you, or if you know about any threats out there. Things that Earth needs to be _worried_ about.”

Tony wondered if he should just lay out all his cards on the table, if he should tell Fury about Thanos. Not that it would do any good, really. It would only make him paranoid. “And I need to know that they aren’t going to get probed, alien-autopsied, and all that crazy shit government organizations do when no one knows to look.”

Fury tossed his file on the table. “Is that why you had your little press conference?”

“Damn straight.” Stark brought his arm to his stomach and Fury could take in the entire sight of the man’s scars that graced his face and hand. Looked like he had gone a few rounds and lost. Stark levelled Fury with a hard stare. “They are my friends and I won’t let you hurt them.” 

“If I wanted to, how would you stop me?” It wasn’t a threat; it truly was a question. Stark didn’t have anything that could stop SHIELD from doing what they wanted, and anything that he tried would end up with him being declared an enemy of the state, with SHIELD absconding with him and his aliens. 

Stark kept his face straight. “I have ways.”

A knock on the door drew both their attention, Stark’s eyes widening in surprise, and Fury palmed his gun, ready to shoot as he looked to the doorway. His own mouth fell open, before he had the sense to pull it shut, looking rather like a surprised fish. 

Romanov.

“What the hell.” Generally speaking, the phrase would have been said with an inflection at the end to mark it as a question. That was not the case this time. It wasn’t every day Nicholas J. Fury could be surprised, but this was certainly shaping up to be one hell of a day. 

She opened the door and behind her was Gamora. “Hey, boss. Long time no see,” she said, looking almost no different from the last time Fury had seen her alive, her eyes glinted in the harsh lights as she quickly took in the scene before her. 

Fury quickly stood up, drawing his gun and pointing it at her. How was this possible? Natasha Romanov was dead. She had died last year during the Mandarin attacks, but apparently not, seeing as she was standing right in front of him, her hair unevenly cut and wearing that thousand yard stare that had become a part of her trademark within SHIELD. 

“How in the hell?” It had to be an imposter. 

The imposter didn’t look worried that there was a gun pointing at them. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but the gist of it is that Tony got us out of Sakaar and we landed here today. Gamora said you’ve met each other already.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” He felt as if his eye was going to pop out of its socket. 

Stark sidled around the table, and stood in front of Romanov. “You heard her. Nat, you okay?” He checked her over, carelessly leaving his back to Fury, before turning to Gamora. “How about you?”

Gamora shrugged and touched the back of her head. “I have a headache, but I will live.”

The Natasha imposter wasn’t as stupid—or as reckless—as Stark was, and didn’t turn to address Gamora, opting instead to huff amusedly. “Same. I’ve had a headache all day.” 

Fury was feeling rather furious that he had lost control of the situation so quickly. “ _What_ is going on here? Natasha Romanov _died_ last year.” The video had made that very clear. There had been no way for her to survive an explosion of that magnitude. 

Tony and Gamora looked at her with surprise. “Last year?” Stark said, sounding confused. 

“...Fury, I’ve been on Sakaar since 2008. I was doing a job with Clint in Bucharest when I got hit by some sort of pulse, and woke up in that trash heap of a planet.”

Bullshit. Natasha was dead. Fury tapped the comm that was in his ear. “I want someone up here with swabs and a genome compiler.” Fury pointed the three of them in the doorway with the gun. “Sit your asses down and don’t move or you’re going to find some bullets where you don’t want them. Someone’s going to get the other one, and then we are going to _talk._ ” 

Stark and the two women made their way around the table, arranging themselves so that Gamora was on Stark’s right and Natasha on his left. 

This day was going to give him an aneurysm. 

“You don’t need to have someone get Lolo,” Stark said, gesturing to the head of the table.

Fury almost didn’t want to turn and look. He also didn’t want to admit to himself that Stark, in all likelihood, wasn’t lying, but right now he wanted to live in a world where he was in control. Fury bit the bullet and turned around. Yep. There she was. Pale skin, green eyes, and a devilish smirk on her lips. If hell had a human form, it would be her.  

How the hell did she get in here? She could have done anything and he wouldn’t have known. 

He resisted the urge to sigh. Fury was going to get played for a fool today. All he wanted from this situation was to individually interview each of them, find out their past, see if there was anything of note between them, and if there was, capitalize on it. Either through subtle manipulations or straight up blackmail—whichever one was the easiest. 

But, no, not only did he get to deal with two aliens, one back from the dead CEO of the biggest arms manufacturer in the country, he _also_ was about to deal with one of his own agents who supposedly back from the dead after six years, despite having watched the footage of her death less than a year ago.

This smelled. And not good—it smelled like work boots that had been worn through trenches for six days and the moisture accumulated over that time had caused trench foot. That’s what this smelled like. Fury would know. 

They sat in silence for a grand total of thirty seconds, when Stark finally opened his mouth. Fury attempted to quiet him with a look, but was unsuccessful, Stark venturing forward into the uncharted territory of Fury’s patience. 

“So, do you have anything to eat? Muffins? Coffee? Bagels? I could really kill for something to eat,” Stark asked, bravely swinging a machete into the deep brush that made up Fury’s patience. 

Fury crossed his arms and continued to stare. It would take a bit for Stark to reach anywhere of importance. 

“No? No muffins? Not going to answer? Look, are we under arrest here? I don’t think you can unlawfully detain us, even if you want to. Or at least you can’t detain me and Natasha, but I’d really prefer if you didn’t hold Lolo and Gamora. Look at them. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Fury raised a brow, and opened one of the files on the desk to an image of the Afghani cave where Gamora had hurt more than just flies. 

“Unless a fly tried to hurt them first,” Stark said, barely missing a beat. 

“I know what Mean Green can do, but what about Miss Business Attire? Can _she_ kill an entire terrorist cell?”

The look Lolo was giving Stark answered every question that Fury had about how dangerous she could be; it wasn’t every day he saw someone being flayed alive without actually losing skin. The only other person he knew who could do that was sitting on Stark’s left, looking far more amused than she should. 

Seeing Natasha, real or not, with not just a simple smirk on her lips, but also mirth in her eyes, was disturbing. The Natasha he had known a year ago had always been very closed off and aloof, even more so since the Battle of New York—understandable, considering what Loki had done to her—only being her real self around Barton. Having your life saved by someone tended to give them special perks, he’d always thought. Natasha could have changed in the year she had been “missing,” but it was also more than likely that it was an imposter in her place. 

He could hear a rumble down the hallway, as the techs approached with a cart. Watching the feed from his datapad, the short technician struggled to push the cart through the hall. 

“Can you ask them for muffins? Our mutual blood sugar is low.”

Fury flicked through the data files, watching the corridor outside the room in highspeed, looking to see how “Lolo” had gotten in the room. The one in the other board room had vanished roughly two minutes ago.

“Nick,” Fake-Natasha had leaned forward, a hand on the table, “Not to parrot Stark, but we haven’t eaten in ages.”

Tony sighed dramatically. “I should have brought the Thai food from the tower. Oh god, Nat, We had ordered, like, the entire restaurant’s worth of stuff, and instead of eating, I had a damn fainting fit. Lolo had to carry me to my bed. All I’ve eaten is a garlic pretzel. I need more food.”

“Natasha” leaned back in her chair, lips twitching. “That is the saddest thing I have heard all day.” Fury could hardly contain his own facial twitch at seeing the second display of genuine emotions on her face. Romanov had always kept her face on lockdown, only showing what she wanted people to see. The various possibilities were racing through his mind.  

Tony sniffed. “It’s just sitting there getting cold. Oh! So, it turns out I have a tower, there’s food and booze in it, _and_ everyone here can have a room in it.” He looked at Fury. “Not you. You’re starving us.”

“You look rather well fed for someone who’s starving, Mister Stark,” Fury sniped, looking at his screen. Hopefully, he could rein in the situation soon. 

Stark looked down. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m _ripped,_ but I have been in better shape.”

The door opened, and the tech backed up with the cart, setting it at the front of the room.

Fury pointed at the technician. “You, take samples from everyone here, and compare them to what we have on file. Especially those two.” He pointed towards “Natasha” and...Lolo. 

The tech nodded and made her way around the table, drawing blood and taking swabs from Romanov and Tony. The needle bent when she went to Gamora, and the tech nervously handed over the cheek swab. Lolo was the last to be sampled, and combined with the angry looks she sent Romanov and Stark’s way she was more than unwilling about it. The two sent her back equally dirty looks until she acquiesced. 

Well, it appeared that “Nat” was in charge of this unruly bunch. He would reserve judgement on that until he saw the DNA results. But the Skrulls could imitate DNA as well as mere appearance. He would have to question her about her past. 

“So, is there anyone else for this motley crew?” Fury asked flatly, partly in jest, eye focused on the Natasha look-alike.

“There should have been one more, but I haven’t heard anything.” She turned to Stark in question, but he shook his head. 

“An android named Vision. He was also there with us. He should have ended up on Earth, too.” 

Fury felt like retiring early. “And do you have any way of contacting this Vision?”

Stark tapped his fingers against the table. “There’s a frequency I can reach him on. If he’s still on Sakaar or somewhere else in space, I know enough theory about creating an Einstein-Rosen bridge to transmit data through on that frequency. Although, depending on where he is, I might have to make a few, and just transmit into the void, and hope he hears. He should be here though. He really should.” Stark tapped his fingers against the table for a moment and turned to Natasha quickly. “Does—do you think he still has the stone?”

“Last time I saw him, he didn’t have it,” Romanov responded slowly. 

“Oh. Hm. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I was getting really fond of my favorite stone,” Stark muttered.

“We can discuss your favorite stone later,” Lolo interjected. 

Fury suspected that if she was next to Stark, he would have been kicked by this point. “Stone?” he asked, warily. He knew better than to trust whatever off-worlders brought to his planet, especially after the Loki fiasco.  

“You know what a stone is, don’t you? Have you never heard of one before? They’re on the ground. You can throw them at people who annoy you. Truly, Midgardians cannot be so behind that they’re not even at the Stone Age,” Lolo said, haughtily. 

_Midgardians?_

“Do I annoy you? Do you want to throw rocks at me?” Fury asked calmly.

“I want to throw rocks at most people. You are not special.”

The room fell into silence as the technician plugged the samples into the machine. 

“Don’t those take, like, weeks to come back with results?” Stark asked. 

“SHIELD has access to more advanced technology,” Romanov answered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s advanced much further than the last time we were on Earth.” So, she knew information about them. That was a strike against her being an imposter, although he was still too wary of her new penchant for emotions. 

“The more you know.”

Gamora leaned forward, peering intently at Fury and drawing the attention to her. “In space, we call your kind Terrans, but your planet is named Earth, not Terra. Why don’t we call you Earthens or Earthlings?”

“‘Cause it sounds dumb?” Romanov and Fury said at the same time, looking across the table at each other briefly before looking back to the green alien. 

Stark nodded. “It sounds really dumb. Also, it sounds like something some sort of alien invader would say. ‘Kneel before me, Earthlings!’ Although, anyone who demands kneeling is probably on the wrong side of history.” 

Fury couldn’t say for sure that it had gotten colder, but the room temperature seemed to have dropped half a degree the moment Stark said that. Lolo sat back and crossed her arms, her death glare amping up slightly. And it was already at radioactive levels. 

“What’s wrong with asking people to kneel?” Her tone had a pH in the negatives. 

“Well, if it’s a kink thing, that’s fine, but trying to set yourself up as dictator for life can be a bit of a mood dampener. Although, Lolo, if you asked me to kneel right now, I might agree to,” Stark said, with a wink. 

Fury repressed the urge to roll his eyes and wondered just what kind of relationship Lolo had with the others. She seemed to be at odds with them, slightly hostile or offended by their words. Regardless, he had an opening and his gut was telling him something important. 

“I would stomp on your neck.” She turned to Fury. “I have grown tired of this. I wish to leave.”

“I imagine you do, Miss Lolo. Now, did you call us _Midgardians_ ?” Oh, watching her lips thin was absolutely delightful. He had tasted blood. “You must be from Asgard. I know people from Asgard. I should contact my friend from Asgard, we could get you home in no time with his help… _Lolo._ ” 

He could see the other three in his periphery. Stark was barely breathing. Romanov still looked as calm and composed as ever, and he doubted Gamora moved much, in general. Stark was the only give-away. More blood in the water. 

“Many people are from Asgard. As it is, Asgardians are not the only people who call this realm Midgard. The Vanir, the Jotuns, the dark elves, for example.”

He came in for the kill. “Are _you_ from Asgard?”

Lolo, unfortunately, looked unruffled. “Is that a crime?”

“Last person who came from Asgard with their name starting with ‘Lo’ and could cast illusions certainly did some illegal stuff. Do you know Thor and _Loki_?”

Her brows knit in what looked to be genuine confusion. “No? Well, there were people named that back when I lived on Asgard, but I haven’t been there in...oh, fifteen hundred years, give or take a thousand.”

Fury sat back, weaving his fingers together. “Of course. And why haven’t you been on Asgard?”

“Because I’ve been on Sakaar,” she said in a “duh” voice. 

“And why have you been on Sakaar?”

“Because it is the literal garbage dump of the universe, and if you end up falling through the seams between reality, you end up on Sakaar. Bor’s taint, everyone knows of this. Except Midgardians, evidently,” her lips twitched wryly, “If you really must know, I used to be a _Valkyrie,_ ” she said, leaning back in her seat and emphasizing that last word as if it meant something. Well, it didn’t. Not to him, at least. Fury would definitely need to contact Thor and ask him about this. 

Fury flicked at his datapad. “My speech analysis here has you sharing an 87% likeness with the invader known as Loki.” He watched “Natasha” with his periphery. The real Romanov would never work with Loki, not after everything Loki had done to her.

Lolo snorted and raised her eyes briefly to the ceiling. “Oh, wow, Midgardian technology says something. And? Like, I’m not this “Loki” person. They sound like a real bitch. I haven’t been to Midgard in, like, _millennia_. You can take your analysis and shove it.” She finished with a flip of her hair and stared him down. Fury met her stare. That had to have been the worst valley girl accent he had ever heard, simply due to the shock of seeing it come from an alien, and not the actual accent, which was actually quite accurate. Stark looked rather horrified, Romanov looked intensely amused—which was still very strange to see on her face, real or not, and only further cemented his belief that it couldn’t be Natasha—and Gamora looked slightly bewildered at the sudden turn of events. 

He looked at the datapad. It was now down to 71%. “Well, my apologies, _Lolo_. I’m just so paranoid about these types of things. I should know you’re not Loki. We had him dissected, after all.”

Gamora’s confusion changed quickly into disgust, her whole body tensing. She leaned forward, the disgust evident on her features. “Dissected?”

“Full on alien autopsy. Peeled his face off and everything,” Fury replied, not looking away from Lolo, whose eyes had grown wide and mouth fallen partially agape. 

“That’s sacrilege,” she hissed, sounding furious, and back to her regular, posh accent. Well, too bad for her. 

“So is invading a planet, killing its residents, and demanding them to _kneel_ in servitude.” Ah, it was good to be back in charge. He was going to put these four in a menagerie. 

Lolo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away from Fury. 

He had gotten under her skin. Good. The datapad beeped, and he looked down. The results were in. 

This Natasha matched his Natasha…He would have to go through with his plan of questioning her past to assuage his suspicions. Never let it be said that Fury wasn’t thorough. 

Stark matched the records they had on file as well. If Natasha was who she claimed to be, however, then it eliminated the need to question Stark. Nobody could fool Natasha for a year and get away with it. Same went for Lolo, because there was no possible way in hell that Romanov wouldn’t have butchered Loki for what he had done to her. He still doubted the veracity of everything he was seeing today. 

Lolo’s didn’t match with anyone in their records, not even Loki. He would have to look into that closer; his gut said that Lolo was Loki, and his gut was never wrong, despite the improbability of that being the case. He couldn’t trust his eye—Loki dealt with illusions. This could just be another one…despite the very dead body they had carefully taken apart and put back together. Just how much could Asgardians heal from? 

Fury turned his attention to the next one. “What’s going on with this one?” He tapped the datapad screen.

The technician hurried around. “We had a bit of a hard time with this one. It’s a triple-stranded genome. We…don’t have that on Earth.” 

He stared at the tech, who had begun to look a bit nervous again. “Well. Hmm.”

There was a violent knocking at the door. Colonel Rhodes and a group of airmen stood on the other side of the door. Fury strode out of the room and eyed them cooly. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

##

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to nanimok for the Kevin Bacon line and this image here https://imgur.com/a/U5GDnl7 LOVE YOU NANI BOO  
> (There are so many little internal memes being made it's sad)  
> I like super seriously can't give my beta enough credit like legit she is my sun and moon, my stars and other space shit. She's the best. ILY ERI BERRY
> 
> Beta Note: This day was getting better and better because Eri was in it. She had the best boss ever, not including that one time when she got paid zero dollars. Which, come to think of it, was every day. Each time she walked into work, she was greeted by the amazing sight of her beautiful boss—the boss’s cat. And behind the cat was Alex. 


	5. A new Valkyrie is in town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word of advice. Don’t get tattoos while drunk. Save yourself a world of pain. -Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear eri,  
> ily. thank you for being my beta. fo real.  
> sincerely,  
> -me
> 
>  
> 
> dear readers,  
> ily. thank you for reading and commenting. fo real.  
> sincerely,  
> -me and eri

Stark’s face was buried into Colonel Rhodes chest, holding him tight and breathing deep. “Oh god, Rhodey. You brought food. You saved us from SHIELD. You found Gamora. I love you.” 

Loki watched Rhodes’ expression as he gently patted Stark on the back. “There there, Tony-bear.” That was the face of a man who had not expected physical contact but was not opposed to it. “So, these are your...friends?” 

Loki knew that expression. She was intimately familiar with it, having worn it on her own face whenever it struck Thor’s fancy to embrace her. Interesting. It appeared that Stark had not been overtly affectionate before his near assassination. 

Stark moved his head minutely, looking to Loki and Gamora out of one brown eye. “Mmmhmm. That’s Gamora and Lolo, and you didn’t get to meet Natasha, but she’s a friend too. She’s from Earth.”

Gamora inclined her head. “Thank you for rescuing us.”

“No problem. Any reason she stayed behind?” Rhodes said, his voice strained. 

Stark’s arms encircled him tighter. The resemblance to an octopus was increasing exponentially. “Probably to say that she wasn’t evil or something. I don’t care. As long as _I’m_ out of there.” 

"Speaking of which, how did you manage this feat...Colonel Rhodes?" Loki asked. She and Gamora sat next to one another, sandwiched between two airmen. Stark was the only one with relative freedom—partially on the seat and partially on the floor of the airplane, still holding Rhodes, like a limpet. 

Rhodes coughed and sat up, straightening his uniform, dislodging Stark. "Well, Pepper called me up and started yelling about how Tony had been taken in by SHIELD. We were able to argue that he was ours to handle, since Tony vanished while under Air Force supervision in Afghanistan, so now that he's back he's under our custody. Afterwards…” he looked down at Tony, warning in his eyes, ”Well, just make sure SHIELD doesn't get you alone again." 

"And what about us?" Gamora asked, leaning forward in interest.

Rhodes shrugged. "Air Force technically has dibs on things to do with space." That struck Loki as odd. She could have sworn that there was a branch of SHIELD that existed solely to deal with threats from space. Yet another deviation from her reality. She wondered if she could wrangle out where the split had happened from Rhodes.  

Stark had finally made his way off the floor. "And that's why you're the best. Don't let any of those Army or Navy guys tell you otherwise."

"I wouldn't," he reached around Stark and took a datapad, "SHIELD confirmed that your DNA matches what they have on file.” Rhodes sent a disapproving glance at Stark. “Tony, why do they have your DNA on file?"

"Because they're shady. I wouldn't be surprised if they had my father’s DNA, too," Stark said, not looking concerned. Pulling his suit jacket straight, he began looking through the bag of food Rhodes had brought. "Protein shakes? You've done me dirty, Rhodey."

"Can your body handle an American cheeseburger after being in space for six years? We're not having the carpets in here cleaned. Wait—why would SHIELD have your dad's DNA?"

Stark lifted his head, a slightly distressed look on his face, as if he had said something he shouldn't have known. The man was like an open book; it was a wonder no one else was able to pick up on his tells quicker than she could, considering they knew him for much longer than she had so far. "Oh, he was one of the founders of SHIELD back after the war. Wild, eh?"

Rhodes gave Stark an unimpressed look. "Yeah. Pretty wild. I never knew that."

Tony settled down on the seat, sitting beside him and cracking open a protein shake. "Yeah, I didn't know until a few years ago, too. Natasha told me." 

Loki closed her eyes briefly. She wished he would refrain from adding unnecessary details that they might get caught up on. Not that she had been any better, she thought, mentally berating herself. The slip up at calling them Midgardians had been foolish and rather embarrassing. Stark mentioning her little speech back when Thanos had sent her to retrieve the Tesseract had not helped the situation, merely reminding her that she was surrounded by people who had fought and beaten her, putting her on edge. Although Stark said that he did not harbour any ill will towards her, this world must, at the very least, hate her very existence. Loki could think of some specific individuals in this world who would not take it well if they caught a glimpse of her. 

She leaned back, prodding a bruise on her colourfully decorated neck. Loki had no desire for the continuous pain, the feeling that her voice might crack at any moment—a constant reminder of how Thanos had killed her. It was demeaning, unbearably so, to carry the marks of her killer. An obnoxious display of control that he would likely have found amusing had he been here, almost as obnoxious as Thor and his friends when they were carried away. Sif and the Warriors Three. 

...Sif and the Warriors Three. That thought brought the storm of other thoughts to a halt. Loki could not truly call them her friends; they had simply tolerated her presence because she was Thor's sibling, and well, offending the royal family was something most people tried to avoid. There was a part of her that mourned their deaths, not for herself, but for Thor, who had lost his friends, his father, his home, his hammer, his eye, and his brother all within a few days. 

An even smaller part of her wished that Thor had died with her and that they could be here together, forging it out in this brave new world side by side, as they had in centuries long past. Untainted by the recent years. It was a selfish thought, to wish that one’s brother was dead, but, perhaps Thor would be better here. He could be with his sibling, could reunite with Odin and his friends. There would be no chance for Thor to become the broken mess he was after Thanos had snapped half the universe away. He would have been spared the guilt of failing, of not dealing the final blow when he had the chance. 

Loki quietly hoped that he was okay. That Thor would be able to recover from what had happened to him, that maybe one day he would be able to smile without crying, that he could go a day without drinking. 

"Hey, Miss Lolo?" Rhodes' voice cut through the air to her. "Are you okay?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It, um. Looks like you're crying?"

Loki gently reached up to her eyes and felt a warm wetness that went down her face. She quickly wiped them away before forcing her hands down to her lap, refusing to show any more weakness to them. It had grown silent in the plane, the rumble of the primitive technology sounding louder in the absence. She looked away. Her gaze landed on the tiny viewport, refusing to make eye contact with them. Everything had felt so distant in the orange world, making it so she had barely felt the sting of true emotion there. 

Must be something about having a body, she thought. 

Rhodes and Stark began to talk amongst themselves again, about things that had happened since Stark had been gone. 

"Lolo?" Gamora said in a whisper that could barely be heard above the engines, her lips practically on Loki's ear.

Loki turned to her, an impassive—or so she hoped—look on her face. "Yes?"

"It will be okay. You can tell me." Gamora looked so earnest, if a bit awkward. Loki could tell that this was something that the woman was unfamiliar with doing. 

Loki was curious. Their situations were slightly similar; a formerly estranged sibling was here in this reality. A small wiggle of the fingers and no one heard them anymore. "Tell me, Gamora. Do you miss your sister?” 

Gamora frowned. "I do, but I know that she has another version of myself and that this one is alone. I want to find her and help her. I don't want her to die and I want to be there with her when we kill our father."

Loki snorted. So simple and neat, all their issues easily tied up with a pretty ribbon.  

"You miss your brother, then? You can befriend this one here. Help him on his path."

Loki shook her head. "My brother is used to me being dead. It almost seems like a running joke now.” She smiled wryly at the thought. “I merely hope that my brother from our world recovers from his injuries." Physical and psychological, she left unspoken, hanging in the air. 

Gamora shot Loki a long look, evidently hearing what she had left unvoiced. "I remember seeing him a fair amount. He had an unfair hand dealt to him, but he will be able to recover. Your brother is a strong person."

Loki nodded and turned away, ending the conversation. Thor was strong, but even the strongest gods could crumble with the weight of grief crushing them. She closed her eyes. 

She would know.

##

When the plane had landed, Rhodey entrusted them to Stark Industries bodyguards. He had also said, quite firmly, that if the Air Force called him, he had better answer unless he wanted to be taken back into custody. Tony could live with that. He could live with a lot of things. He even managed to smile when Rhodey said that he was going to go have dinner with Pepper tonight. 

It wasn’t awkward at all. 

A tense car ride later and Tony strode into the penthouse like he and his alien gal pals weren’t flanked by a veritable host of Stark Industries bodyguards and hadn’t run off to have an unauthorized press conference. 

When he and Loki had left the penthouse, it had been sterile, like no one really lived there. Now, though, it looked closer to Tony’s former Malibu workshop, with smart tables, engineering equipment, and monitors everywhere. It wasn’t a bad look at all. Felt like home. 

In the midst of all of it, like a dog turd in an otherwise pristine soccer field, was Stane, lounging on the couch, a laptop nearby and a warm smile, as if he wasn’t mad about Tony running off. 

As if he wasn’t mad that Tony was still alive. 

When Tony had finished up with university and decided to take control of Stark Industries, Obadiah had been supportive, a helpful guide through those early tumultuous months. Always willing to listen and provide advice, he had been the father figure that Tony had lost—or to be more honest, never really had—and so desperately needed. Before Afghanistan, he had implicitly trusted Stane, had known that he could count on him. Stane filing the injunction that had locked Tony from the company had been the second shocker. The first, of course, having been the fact that Stane had been selling weapons to the enemy. 

Maybe, the stress and pain of what had happened over those three months had made Tony more paranoid, more willing to accept the betrayal and see through the lies that Obadiah had spun around him. 

So, now, seeing him sitting there with a warm smile, having brought all of Tony’s creature comforts to New York, made Tony miss the man that he had grown up with. He missed the trust they had shared, despite knowing that underneath the facade was the mind of a psychopath. One that could arrange the assassination of his godson, a child he had watched grow up, and even call him up less than an hour before said assassination and exchange pleasantries. 

How was he supposed to deal with this? How was he supposed to talk to this man knowing that he had arranged his violent execution? This Stane _had_ gotten away with Tony’s murder, and now, Tony was back from the dead and soon to be ruining his plans. Stane would already be plotting to get rid of him, Tony knew. But, maybe Stane would wait and see what else Tony had to offer, to see what other golden eggs he could lay, to wring him dry and then throw him away like last night’s used condom. 

An obvious solution would be to kill Stane. Tony had killed people before. They had been threats; they had tried to kill him or innocent people and it was _justified_ , and yet, killing Stane was out of the question. Tony couldn’t stomach it. If he wanted to not start off his new life with blood on his hands, he would need to be careful, need to get the evidence and have Stane arrested. 

Then again, maybe he could ask Loki, Gamora, or Natasha to kill Stane. Two former assassins and one…what was Loki? Not an assassin, but someone who did kill people. But then again, what did he know of the crazy god? Loki had been alive for centuries, maybe even thousands of years. Who knew what she had done in her lifetime? 

Tony could handle this. He exhaled quietly and waved a hand at Stane. “Ready to get me to work already?”

“As if you could stop yourself from tinkering around for less than thirty minutes.” Stane stood up with a grunt, waving a hand to dismiss the bodyguards. “I wish you hadn’t run off and had that press conference, but it’s not like I could ever stop you when you got a fire burning under you.” 

Tony shrugged, glancing to one of the datapads, to the windows, to the TV that was on mute, anywhere but Obie’s face. “Sorry about that. It needed to happen immediately. Oh,” Tony spun around, gesturing to Gamora, “This is Gamora. She’s an alien. She’s very cool and that press conference was to make sure she didn’t get stolen away by SHIELD.”

Gamora nodded minutely at Stane and broke off from the group, heading into the kitchen and began to root out some food. Loki followed behind her, pulling out dishes and forks.

“They’re very peckish. SHIELD is bad at hosting guests and let them starve, and Rhodey only brought us protein shakes, the big meanie,” Tony muttered, watching them. God, he wished he didn’t have to talk to Stane right now.

Stane had barely looked at the two women, his focus entirely on Tony. “We did a DNA test while you were out. Hope you don’t mind.”

“And, like SHIELD, you discovered that I am me and not a fake?” 

Stane took Tony’s shoulder and squeezed it, causing Tony to suppress a flinch. “Yes. It’s good to have you back.” He dropped his hand, his tone turning businesslike. “Alright, I’m going to head down to my place and catch some shut-eye. I suggest you do the same.”

Tony looked behind him, sticking his thumb out at the guards. “What about them?”

“They’ll be outside. Don’t want you to get hurt. So many things have changed since you’ve been gone.” 

Gamora walked between them, a bowl of Thai food in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. “Where am I meant to sleep?”

Tony decided not to look a sleepy gift alien in the mouth. “Oh, yeah. This way. I think I spotted an empty room when Lolo was bashing my head into the door.”

“I can do that again if you want,” Loki offered cheerfully.

“No, thank you,” Tony said and hurriedly shuffled off with Gamora in tow, looking for one of the empty bedrooms. He heard Stane bid goodnight to Loki and leave, guards in tow. He went through a few doors, found the room that Loki had dropped him in—the one that Loki had apparently stolen from Pepper, based on the ransacked closet—the linen closet, and finally an empty room for Gamora. “There we go! Is this room good for you?” He spun around and saw her looking down on him from her much higher height. “Will you need a longer bed? I can order a longer bed. You’re very tall.” 

Gamora gave him a small smile. “This is more than adequate. Thank you.” She slid past him and headed into the room.

“You don’t have to eat there. We have a dining room.”

She sat down on the bed, setting the dish on a side table. “I don’t wish to navigate the space with all of your equipment. I will eat and then sleep. Hopefully, my headache will go away.” Gamora lightly touched the back of her head, wincing as if it was overly tender. 

“Oh, yeah, you said at the Triskelion,” Tony rubbed his left arm, “Do you want me to get you some aspirin? It helps with headaches.” 

“No. I will be fine.”

“Okay, well, there’s a bathroom over there, and if you have any questions you can ask our AI JARVIS.” Tony pointed to the door and then up at the ceiling. “I can see about getting you some clothes. Well, I won't. JARVIS will. JARVIS, can you say hi to Gamora?"

"Hello, Miss Gamora. If you have anything you need feel free to ask." JARVIS's voice echoed through the room. 

Gamora looked at the ceiling and then to Tony. "He sounds like Vision."

Oh, how Tony didn't want to have to explain that he got his AI mutilated by a different AI and had to shove the remains of him into a fabricated body. "Yeah, Vision is sort of JARVIS, except Vision doesn't exist here."

"You will have to tell me about this Vision, sir,” JARVIS said, sounding curious. 

"He's pretty cool. Not as cool as you, though, JARVIS."

##

Vision sat on the icy moon of Titan. One of Thanos's doughnut ships was flying in the distance. Maybe he could take them by surprise and commandeer it.

He stood up and brushed his cape off. Here went nothing. 

##

"I am flattered, sir," JARVIS replied, blithely. 

The telltale clicking of heels announced the arrival of Tony's other alien housemate. "Loki, what can I do you for?" 

She leaned up against the doorframe. "Can you tattoo people?"

Tony blinked. "Uh, no."

"Can you find someone who can?" Loki rubbed her forearm, looking down at it, a small frown on her lips. 

Tony ignored her question, his curiosity getting the better of him in light of her strange and random question. "Why you need ink, Lokilocks? Starting a prison gang? Oh, are we getting matching Team Soul Squad tattoos? I can design it."

"Team Soul Squad?" Gamora asked, incredulously from where she was eating on the bed.

Tony looked behind him. "As if ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ is a good name. It doesn't even become a good initialism. TSS, that works. Not GotG."

Loki made eye contact with Gamora, and Tony could feel the silent conversation between the two of them about how they thought Team Soul Squad was stupid. It wasn’t stupid. It was great. "We can have TSS tattooed, and then if anyone asks, we shall tell them it means ‘Tony Stark Sucks.’" 

Gamora gave Loki a small smile and went back to her food. "Not that this isn’t fun, but can you have this conversation elsewhere? Killer headache, remember?" 

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Tony muttered apologetically and stepped out of the room, pushing Loki out as he did. "Okay, so what's up? I'm pretty sure I can get someone to come up at like...2 AM to give you a tattoo." 

Loki licked her lips. "I told Fury I was a Valkyrie. If Thor shows up, I will need to have the marking of a Valkyrie."

"And there won't be any other Valkyries out there to say that you're full of shit? No Valkyrie sorority that will go, 'oh my god we didn't go to Valkyrie School with her!'"

Loki stared down at him, making it clear she thought he was an idiot. "No. The Valkyrie host was wiped out by Hela a very long time ago. Thousands of years." 

"Huh. Okay. I'll have JARVIS find someone."

"I have located a shop that closes in thirty minutes with very good reviews," JARVIS chimed in, almost immediately. Tony was briefly surprised that JARVIS had found a good one, before remembering that this was New York and tattoos waited for nobody when you were drunk. 

How people could live without their own personal AI, Tony didn’t know. 

"Make sure they have brown ink," Loki commanded.

"Of course." 

Tony began heading back towards the kitchen. "How was the food? I saw Pad Thai and Satay Chicken and a ton of other goodies." He could murder a whole buffet right now; he was so hungry. 

Loki followed him, glancing around the room, gently touching the tools that Stane had brought in. Tony didn't know how he felt about Stane supplying him with everything he needed. He probably wanted Tony to start making weapons right away. Tony rolled his eyes. Fat chance. 

Tony assembled a plate for himself and Loki, setting them down at the bar, since she had apparently only put one together for Gamora. "So, tell me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but is this an illusion or are you a girl right now?"

Loki looked at him, her lips a thin line. "I am a shapeshifter. This is my true form, as is my other form. Anything I shapeshift into is me, no matter the gender or shape."

"Okay, cool. So, you're, like, genderfluid?" 

Loki stared at him impassively. Then she gave him a small incline of the head. "Yes…That is an accurate description. I am myself, no matter my form."

"Can you turn into a duck?"

Loki delicately raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Do I want to, as of now? Not particularly."

"Valid," Tony pushed the plate to her, "Now eat some fucking food." 

Loki stopped it from sliding off the counter and sat across from him. "I do not run the risk of starvation. My kind are hearty people and can go long periods of time without nourishment," she said, digging into the food. "Not bad.” She swallowed another bite. “You Midgardians certainly have a wide variety of foods."

“That we do,” he said, digging into his own food. Then he remembered the last time Loki had been acquainted with Earth food. “Uh. Sorry about tying you up outside the shawarma place while we went in for a snack.”

She let out a little puff of air, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “It was not the first time Thor carelessly left Mjolnir on top of me so I could not make an escape.”

Tony tried to hide his grin by taking a drink. When it had happened, Loki had been definitely been pouting—okay, scowling, really, if he was going to be honest—in a very aggressive manner and squirming on the ground, trying to shift out from under the hammer. “Makes me happy that I’m an only child.”

Loki’s fork scraped against the plate, a screech echoing through the room. Tony tried not to flinch and he got the feeling he was about to listen to something that was centuries in the making. “I…sometimes I think it would have been better if Thor never had a sibling. That his life would have been better.” Tony was frantically trying to come up with something to say in response to that worrying confession, but he was drawn out of his thoughts by Loki huffing. “But I know that he needed me to ensure his head did not grow too fat,” she pointed her fork at him, “I believe you could have done with a sibling.”

“Do you think I would have ended up with a sibling dedicated to stopping me from getting a fat head, or would me and my imaginary sibling have taken over the world by now because we kept egging each other to escalate?”

“Would they be Steel Man to your Iron Man?”

Tony smiled, not hiding it this time. “It’s not even iron.”

“It is a gold-titanium alloy, I know. I assume the gold is for conductivity. I must inquire, how did you manage such fine control without a direct neural interface?”

Tony opened his mouth to explain the early Iron Man suits HUD and interface, when JARVIS cut in. "The tattoo artist has agreed to come to Stark Tower and do the tattooing of Miss Loki at the promise of excellent compensation."

"You have all my cards, JARVIS, I'm sure it won't break the bank.” He paused. “You do have all my cards, right? They were reinstated, right?”

"I have access to a few of your discretionary funds that were not closed when you were reported dead."

“Oh, okay, good. We’ll work on getting everything back in order. Thank you, JARVIS.” He turned back to his food, but stopped when Loki began to speak. 

"Why do you treat him as though he is a person? He is not genuinely sentient, not in the way that we are.” Loki stared at him, her green eyes piercing, the low light not deterring her focus in the least.

Tony paused in shoving food into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Can you prove that? JARVIS in our original reality was sentient before we put him into the body, and I hope with enough modifications that this JARVIS will be as far-reaching as him. Maybe once Vision shows up, he can even help me with it."

Loki looked less intrigued than before. "Sentience on Midgard seems to be a thriving topic with your definition of it. At this stage, he seems to be less sentient. Only reactive to being spoken to,” she looked away, “You seem fairly unconcerned about Vision. He is easily one of the most powerful of us, with what he has, but he has not made his presence known. Does this not worry you?" Loki, for her part, didn’t sound very worried. Just mildly curious, like it didn’t have an effect on her. 

Tony rolled his eyes internally and nodded. "It does, but as you said, he’s the most powerful of us, what with the jewellery, and if anyone can handle themselves, it's him. Once we get settled in, if he still hasn't shown up, I’m going to put out a call for him. It's more important that we get off on the right foot here, establish our places and whatnot," he said, waving his fork around.

"He still had his skull crushed by Thanos," Loki said, continuing to pin him with her stare.  

"We all got done dirty by Thanos, even the people who lived." Tony licked his lips, careful about what he was about to say. "I think Gamora and Nat have headaches ‘cause that's how they died. That we haven't fully healed." 

Loki’s hand drifted towards her neck, before dropping suddenly, as if she were self-conscious of the fact she had been reaching for it. "I thought that was obvious. He broke my neck,” she said, absently, her blase tone causing Tony to look up quickly. That was definitely not normal behaviour to being choked to death. But before he could get a word out, her eyes sharpened and narrowed into a glare, almost as if she had sensed his alarm. “Half of your body is one giant wound, one that would have led to amputation had you not had me with you at the time. I would be concerned if you had not realized the very obvious fact that you just stated.” 

Fine, fine. Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Wow, okay, sorry, I see you are not a fan of observations." 

"I am a fan of more difficult observations, for example, why we came back where we did. They all seem to be related to _you_." 

Tony blinked. "That doesn't make sen—" he paused, partially because of his own realization and the fact that Loki was now looking amused at his facial expression, which was probably an unflattering mix of shocked and bewildered. No, it made lots of sense. Well, no, not quite. Her observation was right, but he couldn’t understand the reasoning behind _why_ they had landed where they did. Natasha had come back at the HYDRA bunker where he and Cap had their falling out; Gamora had appeared in Afghanistan where his life had been irrevocably changed; he had come back where he had died...but what had happened at Stark Tower to bring Loki here? Tony mulled it over. Well, he had a lot of good memories with Pepper here; they had formed the Avengers here; he had lost JARVIS and accidentally created Ultron here as well.

"Could they be tied to my life events or something? Strong emotions? I know it sounds stupid, but I don't get why _me_." Why him, indeed. The universe must really love screwing with his life. 

Loki shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth, but still managed to make it look graceful and something off the tables of the British monarchy. "Why would I know? Perhaps old men who can shift people between realities move in mysterious ways."

Tony tapped his fingers against the bar. "Then where the hell could Vision have shown up?"

“If he is not on Earth, then based on Fury’s statements regarding gamma radiation, he must be in space,” she shot him a long look, “You’ve only been to Titan based on my observations within the orange realm.”

Tony clenched his jaw so hard that he was afraid he felt a tooth crack. _Titan._ There were definitely feelings there. Strong ones, too. He had been beaten by Thanos there. He had held Peter as he had dissolved into ash. 

Oh, god, Vision was on Titan. 

Tony pulled over a datapad and began working on calculations, the distance from Earth to Titan, how to contact Vision, anything to get him away from anywhere remotely close to Thanos. He had talked to Fury about sending data into space for Vision, but he had only said that in the hope that Vision had landed on Earth and Fury wouldn’t be arsed to look for him. 

Fuck. 

Tony threw himself down the rabbit hole, barely paying attention to Loki as she finished up her plate of food, and then his. He could contact Thor’s ex, Jane—she was an expert on Einstein-Rosen bridges. Selvig would be good to speak to regarding it, as well. Maybe he could befriend Thor and hitch a ride on the Bifrost to find Vision. No, that wouldn’t work—the chance of Loki being exposed would be too great. They would have to deal with that when going for the Tesseract, though, and potentially the mind stone, if it wasn’t with Vision or HYDRA. Who knew what else had changed in this reality?

What a clusterfuck. 

"The artist has arrived and will be coming up soon," JARVIS announced. 

Tony closed his notes, saving them to the server. There were so many things to do to get ahold of Vision and the rest of the stones. Contacting Selvig and Foster would have to wait until later in the day. 

Loki shot upright. "Give me one of your datapads, I still need to draw the damned thing."

Tony grabbed one that was nearby and slid it to her after opening up the paint application.

It was quite a sight; he had expected Loki to struggle with it, but she grabbed the stylus from the top, and with deft movements, barely needing corrections, drew some sort of winged eye that was also a spear thingy. It must have meant something in Asgard, but all it was to Tony was cool. 

He was so focused on what she was doing that he didn't hear the elevator doors open, or the artist enter until the man whistled and declared, loudly, "Nice place."

Loki glanced up for a second before turning back to her work.

Tony took it upon himself to be the people person for the moment. "Hi, come over here," he called out as he waved, "This is Lolo, and she's the one in need of a tattoo at 3 AM. Sorry about that," he said with a chuckle. 

"No worries. Some of the best tattoos happen late at night." The man put his case on the counter and opened it up, glancing at the datapad that Loki was working on. "That what you're looking for?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, to scale on my left forearm," she said, beginning to undo her shirt. 

Honestly, Tony wouldn't have thought about it much; it made sense to not wear a shirt when the sleeves could roll down and get in the way. Just take the shirt off and get it done in your bra, but no, Loki wasn't wearing a bra. He had to stop himself from gawking, screaming, and trying to cover her up like the prude that he wasn't.

The tattoo artist had given her a glance when she had taken the left arm out and left the rest of the shirt draped over, but didn't say anything or seem affected in the least. Maybe he just worked with a lot of naked people. 

Loki slid the datapad to the man who sent it to himself and pulled out a small printer, before turning back to Loki and wiping down her forearm with a batch of alcohol wipes. "JARVIS told me you were an alien, and I don't know much about alien anatomy, so please let me know if I can't, like, pierce your skin. I don't want to ruin my gun."

"I have had a tattoo before. It was not an issue."

Tony raised a brow, "Oh? Where is it?" He idly looked around the currently exposed flesh, trying not to feel like a pervert.

Loki ignored him. Rude. He would find out one day; his curiosity had been awakened and it wouldn’t give up now. 

The artist pulled their attention back and had Loki show where exactly she wanted the tattoo. They watched him print a stencil of Loki's drawing and apply it to her forearm before pulling it away leaving a likeness of the tattoo. He then began prep.

Tony remembered when he got his one and only tattoo. Late night at MIT, one of Rhodey's friends showed up at a party with a tattoo machine. He hadn't been about to get a tattoo, but Gabby Winters took it upon herself to pour enough vodka down his throat until he was willing to get a small atom tattooed on his ankle. The location had been Rhodey's idea and Tony still hadn't forgiven him for it. He spent fifteen minutes in incredible pain that the vodka hadn't been able to drown out, only to wake up to a smudgy, blown out mess that he had ended up getting removed as soon as he could. 

Tony was pulled back to reality when the artist fired up the machine and began to do the linework on Loki. 

Tony would give her a lot of credit; she barely moved. He would have flinched—just a bit. 

They sat in silence, the buzz of the gun echoing throughout the apartment. Tony hoped that Thor wouldn't show up soon and see the fresh tattoo, that Fury would leave them alone for a while, that Stane would drop dead, and that a whole veritable mound of other things wouldn't happen. He just wanted to get his bearings. Surely the universe owed him that much?

He grabbed a datapad, flipped into offline mode, and began to do what he did best. Creating. Tony would need to get JARVIS to hook up his email accounts again, get him a phone, cards, Happy. Tony's brow furrowed; where was Happy? He hoped Stane hadn't fired him. Happy was his bro. His forehead of security. 

Loki and the artist made some small talk, which amused Tony to no end; he hadn’t thought Loki had it in her to do that. When he had first met her, it was all grandiose speeches and threats. She seemed almost...nice, right now. There was no denying that Loki had a bunch of issues—what with the killing and all—but it seemed that underneath it all, Loki could be nice. 

Thor had talked about Loki at length and how Loki could be a devious, troublemaking prankster who was fond of kidney shanking someone on the regular, but could also get you out of trouble, quick as could be. Thor had never mentioned Loki being like this. Had it never happened with Thor in the room or was this a new feature of Loki's?

Or, maybe, Tony was overthinking it, and Loki could just hold off on being a dick for, like, ten minutes, and Thor never bothered to mention it because it was common sense. 

The sound of the stairway door opening drew his and Loki's attention; the artist didn't look up except to grab Loki's arm and hold it tighter. "Don't move." 

Natasha slid out of the doorway and stared at the scene: Tony being a nerd on a datapad, Loki with her tits out getting a tattoo, and a tattoo artist completely focused on it. "Hi. I'm back from Washington. What’s going on?" Her eyebrows were raised. 

Tony hopped off the stool and went towards Natasha, taking her out to the balcony, away from eavesdroppers. "Wasn't sure I was going to see you again with the way Fury was looking like he was going to grill you."

Natasha's gaze was still firmly on Loki. "What's with the tits?"

Tony shrugged. "I’m not going to question Asgard's nudity regulations with some dude whose name I don't even know. As for the tattoo, Valkyries have a tattoo that says they're a Valkyrie, so she needs it, in case Thor shows up. Now, enough about Loki and her tits, what happened with you?"

Natasha finally looked away from the little tableau. In her defence, they were some nice tits. Not that either of them would ever be hearing that particular thought. "I think I convinced Nick to believe the other Natasha was a Skrull or some sort of shapeshifter that took my place for some nefarious reason. He is still hesitant about…Lolo. She reminds him too much of Loki.”

“For obvious reasons.”

“We all need to be careful, but Loki doubly so. Fury showed me pictures of what they did to Loki’s body. Looked like they took some inspiration from Game of Thrones.” She looked at him carefully in the eye before continuing. “Our Loki made a lot of enemies with his attack, but this Loki managed to do a lot more damage here. If she gets caught, she will need to run for the hills, probably leave the planet altogether, because they will rip her apart.” Natasha’s face was solemn as she explained. 

He sat back in one of the chairs, looking down into the city. "Jesus…How did Loki pass the DNA test? Was that you?"

She nodded. “I went into the database and replaced the file with Loki’s DNA before Nick could test it. If he goes back and grabs another sample, it could be troublesome, so I’m going to try to destroy _Lolo’s_ sample, but still, you two need to be more careful. The Loki here did that kneeling speech, too, and your comment put Fury on edge. It didn’t help that ‘Lolo’ is Asgardian.”

Tony swore and felt like slapping himself. They had been cocky, playing around. Why couldn't the Loki from this world have come up with a different speech? Why did Tony have to open his fat mouth? Same for Loki. "We'll keep our mouths zipped in the future. Wanna be our spokesperson?”

Natasha gave him an unimpressed look. "I can't. Fury is bringing me back into SHIELD for supervision. It’s also an ideal place for me to be to help stop HYDRA and Project Insight, ideally with fewer deaths this time."

"That's still a thing here?"

Natasha nodded. "They're behind schedule, though. You not existing here has put a delay in a lot of things.” She gave him a wry grin. “You were too smart for us in our world."

Fucking great. What else was coming for them? "What about AIM? I know they were stopped but I don’t know the details.”

Natasha finally sat down on the balcony chair across from him. "Those went on for a lot longer here, too. Steve and Clint stopped them, but my counterpart died. Taken hostage and injected with Extremis. She went boom." Natasha spread her hands miming an explosion with her fingers. "Killian was arrested and tossed in the Fridge, and so were a lot of his little friends."

“I can develop the stable version of it, and they can de-dragonify Killian’s little soldiers…” Tony paused, shaking his head as he remembered the moment Pepper had fallen into the flames, Extremis pumping in her veins. His world had ended. He fought Killian with rage and grief flowing through him, ready to accept death if he failed. But she had appeared like the avenging angel she was, killing Killian and saving him. Tony shook his head again. "Pepper and Rhodey are together here. They’re getting married. They bonded after my death. Stane is control of my company, and I have to look him in the face, knowing that he paid to have me killed. Natasha, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She reached over to clasp his shoulder. “You can do this. You’re stronger than you think. You stopped Thanos. You’ve saved the world, the universe. Stane isn’t going to be able to get you.”

Tony bit back the urge he felt to just talk about everything wrong with this world, how it was so different. How a part of him hated it and he had only been here a day. He didn't have his wife, his daughter, his friends, his company, his planet. It was all wrong. Instead of being at home talking to Pepper and dealing with Morgan wandering around the house late at night, he was with Natasha in Stark Tower—which wasn’t even his anymore, in their world—with fucking Loki getting a tattoo, and Nebula’s sister with her formerly bashed in head trying to sleep off the very same migraine that Natasha was most likely also sporting. It wasn’t right.

Fuck this world. 

Bitterness tore through him like it was palladium poisoning. It burned hot under his skin, and the flurry of thoughts that he had been trying to keep back rushed forward with a vengeance. He should have stayed dead. It was better that way.

“I…I’m going to bed,” Tony said weakly, and abruptly fled the balcony, leaving a surprised Natasha alone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Air Force has dibs on aliens because of the Stargate program. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I STILL LOVE YOU, SAMANTHA CARTER, WHO IS CLEARLY PEGGY’S OTHER, SUPERIOR NIECE. 


	6. All Around Me Are Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gather round, children, for today we learn of a fascinating topic. It is sure to be absolutely riveting, simply...spellbinding, you could say. For today we learn about gamma radiation!

Tony’s overall nihilism—which had made a brief appearance last night—had gone back into the corner of his brain where it belonged after a full night’s rest.

It had been twenty-four hours since he had fallen back into the land of the living. Currently, he was sitting down and having breakfast while watching two aliens on the couch in pajamas watching television.

Someone—JARVIS—had been thoughtful enough to arrange for three cell phones to be purchased for them, meaning Tony could get started on the first thing on his mental to-do list, which was to take them apart, make sure they hadn’t been tampered with, and then upload a jailbroken OS. There was no way he would be letting anyone eavesdrop on them. 

Near the elevator was also three racks of clothing, one rack for each of them. If JARVIS had lips, or a body in general, he would kiss him. Not that he had ever kissed Vision, because that would have been weird. 

"That was astoundingly moronic. Dancing does not encourage youths to have sex." Loki was looking at the large TV with an expression that could only be described as some hybrid of bewilderment, disdain, and derision. Tony was consistently astounded by the expressions she could pull off. "Wanting to have sex is the main cause of having sex, not dancing. Imagine going to a place with no dancing," she scoffed. 

He had heard JARVIS guiding them on how to start the TV while he was in his bedroom, but the sight of the two of them sitting back and watching the end of Footloose was...interesting. 

"There was no dancing on my father's ships." 

Oh, awkward. Tony bit down the urge to leave the room and instead worked on his eggs some more. 

The room was quiet for a bit longer before Loki began to speak in careful measures, her eyes never leaving the screen. "Your father was a humourless, joyless monster, and there was no dancing because there was nothing worth dancing to, not for the fear of copulation."

"That is true," Gamora flashed Loki a small smile as she flicked to a different channel, "I enjoyed the movie. Reverend Shaw seeing that he had taken his message too far and putting a stop to the books being burned was nice, but he should have changed his mind when Ariel spoke to him about her past."

Loki looked thoughtful, and oh, no, Tony was dreading what would come out of her mouth next. "What if Ariel and Ren had killed her father and the others who opposed dancing and framed Chuck for it?" 

Tony resisted the urge to groan, but didn’t manage to stop his eye from twitching. It felt like he was getting whiplash from the thoughtful commentary from Gamora to the vicious mindedness of Loki. Wow. He would be getting a few more locks on the bedroom door. 

"An intriguing idea. Run them over with Chuck's tractor and then kill Chuck to make it seem like he couldn't live with the guilt?" 

Okay, okay. Tony needed to remember that maybe both of them were a little crazy. 

"Murder-suicide is always a good option, but I was thinking you gather them all in a vehicle together and then trick Chuck into driving into it by having the Ren character play 'chicken' in front of it and then dive out of the way."

"That’s not a bad idea. It fits in with Chuck's character, as well, since he played 'chicken' with Ren in the tractor scene." Gamora pulled her legs up on the couch, looking for all the world like a contented cat. 

"Exactly. The perfect crime." Loki, on the other hand, looked like a reigning queen overseeing her dominion, which consisted of a couple of water bottles, two empty plates, and the TV.  

Tony let out a low whistle and shook his head. If Nat were here, she would probably have another horrible way to get Chuck in trouble. 

"Stark!" Gamora called out, "There was no Kevin Bacon in that film! I was told that Kevin Bacon was the best dancer in the galaxy, but there was  _ no one _ named Kevin Bacon."

Tony did not want to be the person explaining movie roles and actors to someone completely unaccustomed to Earth today. But instead of asking JARVIS to take over, he found himself saying, "Uh, Kevin Bacon played Ren, the main character. He's the actor." He shoved some more eggs in his mouth to keep it from running without his brain’s permission. 

Gamora frowned. "He was an adequate dancer, to be generous. I saw multiple people play the same role in the dancing scene in the barn."

Tony quirked an eyebrow, impressed. He had to give her credit at identifying the stunt doubles. Then again, he imagined that being a daughter of Thanos probably left her pretty detail oriented. Nebula certainly had been. "It's just a movie thing. He's, like, the main actor though."

"Director Fury had mentioned that you knew about Kevin Bacon, but he never got the chance to ask you  _ how _ you know about Kevin Bacon." Tony nearly jumped out of his skin when Coulson's voice rang out behind him. That was a voice he had not ever expected to hear again. Tony spun around slowly and stared at the man that Loki had impaled, who was giving the three of them a benign smile.

Gamora and Loki immediately rose to their feet, more than ready to give Tony a helping hand if he needed it. Aw. They had only known each other for less than forty-eight hours and they were already ready to defend him. It was like having two very aggressive, very deadly dogs. At least, that’s what he liked to think. He waved to them to sit down, unable to notice the fact that Loki gave no sign of recognition of Coulson. No facial twitch or tell that gave away her shock at seeing someone she had most definitely killed to be alive.  

He swallowed. “You’re SHIELD, right? Aren't government agents like vampires? Don't you have to invite them in, unless they have a warrant?"

"Very amusing, Mister Stark. As Director Fury informed you yesterday, there have been changes since Loki’s failed invasion." Coulson’s eyes flickered over Tony’s shoulder while saying that, to where Loki and Gamora were standing. Oh, no. Fury had definitely told Coulson his suspicions about Loki. "May we talk in private for a bit?"

Tony licked his lips. “Fine. Office. Upstairs. You probably know that already. I bet you can tell me my shoe size.”

“Nine-and-a-half.”

Tony squinted. “Not cool.” 

They headed upstairs to a barely furnished office—seriously, why did Stane have this place built if it was going to be barely used? There were all the businesses and offices downstairs, but the entire penthouse was barely touched. Had it been a monument to Tony’s death? Was this Stane’s way of going, “Haha, I killed Tony Stark and here’s his gravestone?”

At least JARVIS had been instal— _ son of a bitch. _ Stane had taken JARVIS's AI core out of his house in Malibu. The Tony here had died before JARVIS had been uploaded to the cloud, so that meant Stane had either stolen the AI core or he somehow managed to make a copy of JARVIS and upload him to Stark Tower. Or worse—Stane somehow had access to JARVIS in the aftermath of his death.  

Fuck. Tony had built JARVIS to be loyal to him, but it had been six years. Six years during which Stane could have mucked about in him. Tony would need to go into his code and make sure Stane hadn't been spying on them. He couldn't let Loki be found out. To say that it would be bad if SHIELD found out he was harbouring a war criminal was a gross understatement, even if their Loki wasn't the one who invaded this New York. 

Why hadn't Tony realized this sooner? Ugh, he felt like slapping himself for his massive oversight. He was going senile too early. 

Tony gently lowered himself into his chair—no use in causing any aches to flare up—and gestured for Coulson to take the one across from him. "Say your piece, Mister Agent-is-my-first-name."

Coulson remained standing, looking out the window, down to the area where Gamora and Loki were. Knowing them, they were probably staring right back. Tony didn’t bother restraining the urge to roll his eyes. "Agent Romanov and Director Fury had a long talk yesterday. He verified her identity to the best of his ability, but is still skeptical,” he finally turned to look at Tony, “And of course, he is still skeptical about you, and, as he put it, ‘your merry band of psychopaths.’ Those two have quite some interesting ideas on how to deal with adversity. I wouldn’t want to be Chuck.” His face was as bland as Tony remembered it. It was like being slapped by the past; he could almost see himself back in the lab with Pepper at his side and Coulson standing in front of them. 

Tony pushed back the resurgence of memories. "Then maybe they should work for SHIELD," he snapped back.

Coulson’s expression didn’t change, but Tony could have sworn he looked more amused than he did two seconds ago. "Mister Stark—"

"Mister Stark was my father. Call me Tony."

Coulson paused for a split second. "Tony—"

"Wait, never mind. I don't like how you say my name. Go back."

Coulson raised an eyebrow minutely. Point to Tony. "Stark, yesterday, there were four gamma radiation bursts across the planet and out of all those areas, you four appeared. Agent Romanov even stole a Russian fighter jet, and managed to rendezvous with Gamora while leaving Agents Barton and Rogers being none the wiser."

Tony kicked back in his chair, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Your point is?"

"My point, Mister Stark, is how can we at SHIELD and the rest of the government be certain that you are Tony Stark and not an imposter? Can you give us proof that your alien friends downstairs aren’t a danger to us?"

"Look, Agent, there's nothing I can say or do to prove to you that we are trustworthy, that we just want to get back to our lives—well, I want to get back to my life,” he snorted, “I don't know if Gamora or Lolo want to go back to where they're from. Natasha certainly slid back into her role as a spy, not even a full day and she's probably off in some place that begins with a B. I wouldn't worry about those two and their little movie talk either, all just hypotheticals, you at SHIELD should be used to that kind of talk. Simulations on who to bomb, what would happen if someone was assassinated, you know the deal. I was an arms dealer, I've seen the briefs."

Coulson managed to look somewhat interested in what he was saying. “ _ Was _ an arms dealer?"

Tony wondered if it counted as a slip-up in Natasha or Loki's book. "I don't know how much you know about what happened in Afghanistan, but one of the last things I saw while on this planet was a Stark Industries mortar about to explode in my face right after seeing some good kids get torn apart by them. I'm not doing that anymore."

At that, Coulson’s eyes narrowed a little. "SI mortars? Does anyone else know this?" 

Tony pursed his lips. "No. Not yet."

"Interesting." Coulson pulled out his phone, and began tapping something in.

"I want to handle it myself," Tony pointed an accusing finger at Coulson, "If I find out SI was double-dealing, I will come to you, but if the attackers just stole a shipment, that is still my responsibility."

"I’m wondering if Director Fury had you pegged all wrong."

Tony sighed, his thoughts drifting off to pegs before he pulled himself back. 

"Before you went missing, our assessment of you was just an ironmonger industrialist who could create the greatest weapons of mass destruction of our era. A potential menace to the world order."

"And now?" Tony asked, a brow raised. 

Coulson gave him an unreadable look before answering. "I, personally, am uncertain with that assessment, but I also believe that with your knowledge we'll be able to take out any threats that come to us from space. That you could help us create an armour that would encircle the Earth and keep us safe from whatever is out there."

How in the hell did Coulson—? Just—? His pulse thundered in his ears, and he felt a tiny bit like puking. Swallowing, Tony clenched his jaw tight, feeling the little vein on his neck pop out. "I...wouldn't be opposed to that. I still need to get my grounding, now that I'm back. Give me time, and maybe I can work with SHIELD.” He stared Coulson down, feeling like he was losing the game of facial blandness. “With, not for.”

Coulson tilted his head towards the downstairs, where Loki and Gamora were. "And them?"

"They have no beef with Earth and I know they would come to its defense if needed. They're weird and violent, but good. Culture clash and whatnot." 

##

Unbeknownst to Stark and Coulson, Gamora and Loki had eavesdropped on their little meeting through a spell cast by Loki that would replay the conversation back to the two of them in her room. 

Gamora had left a bit before the two men had bid each other goodbye, leaving Loki alone. She was tempted to go back to sleep, since she had only slept for a few hours last night, the pain from her neck having woken her up. She rubbed her neck lightly. When Loki had gotten up, Gamora had been in the living room fiddling with the television remote. They then spent the majority of their morning watching movies that Peter Quill had said were the greatest things ever. 

The man apparently had no taste, except for Gamora, who admittedly was a catch. 

Loki had no desire to head out to where Stark was. All those years ago, he had been very...incensed in the tower, angry for the agent’s death, before she had thrown him out the window. She had no strong opinions of the SHIELD agent; he was just another in a long line of people she found she had killed in her effort to conquer Earth, barely remembering his face through the haze of her memories during that time, overshadowed by her time with the Mad Titan. Loki had had some hard times in her life, but her time spent with Thanos and the Other had been the most harrowing and painful moments of her life. Even her death at the hands of Thanos held no candle to the agony inflicted during the months she had been in his tender care. It had been almost merciful of him to end her life so simply. He could have taken her back with him and began his torture anew, but he had not, and for that, she was thankful. By the Norns, she felt for Nebula and Gamora; at least her father had been an ordinary sort of monster. 

So, instead of dealing with Stark’s inevitable hysterics _ ,  _ Loki settled for cleaning up the mess she had made yesterday, gathering the discarded clothes that she had thrown around looking for the perfect outfit to take advantage of Stark's emotional state. Having Stark imprint on her would have been easy to work with, but having him see right through her attempt had been...embarrassing. 

The clothes that Potts had left in the room were nice, clean cut and tailored to accentuate the curves to her body without being overly revealing or lewd. The woman had good taste, marriage to Stark notwithstanding. 

Loki put the shoes back in the closet on their little shelf when the door to her bedroom opened. Expecting Stark, she raised an eyebrow at Agent Coulson, who stepped into the room instead. "Agent."

He stayed silent, apparently content to watch as she moved around the room, gathering the clothes and putting them back in their places.

She finished up with the clothes and got down on her hands and knees and began pulling the towels out from under the bed. "I do not mind you looking, but I am going to go have a shower soon and that I do mind you watching."

“That’s quite alright. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” 

Loki glanced behind her, where the agent was watching her intently. “Soon would not happen to be now, would it?” she said, dryly. 

He merely inclined his head. She stared back at him. Evidently, she would have to lock him out of the bathroom. Loki turned back to the towels, intent on picking one that was not covered in dust from underneath the bed.

“You remind me of him.” 

Loki turned back around, a towel on her arm. “I remind you of who, exactly?” 

Coulson’s eyes tightened a bit, the tension imperceptible to the human eye. But she could see it. “The would-be conqueror of the world,” he stepped forward, “Your mannerisms, the way you speak, even your coloration. It’s uncanny. A female Loki.” 

Loki took in his face. Her memories during the attack were fuzzy at best, and she could barely remember the features of the man she had killed in the helicarrier. She did, however, remember his courage. Loki smiled at him, her lips pulling back into a dark marring of her features. 

Walking forward, she slung the towel over her shoulder. “I remind you of a would-be conqueror? A destroyer of cities, perhaps?”

Coulson did not back away from her approach. Bold. “Yes. You do.” His hands hung by his sides, calm. “But, I also know that’s impossible.”

“If it is impossible, then why suggest such madness?” She stopped a foot away from him. His carefully crafted appearance was irking. Loki wanted to tear it apart. 

“Because madness is what you deal with, Loki.” 

Loki laughed. She could not hold back the burst of amusement that his words brought; she was slipping. But, this was how the little agent wanted to play? He thought he could trick her, Loki Silvertongue, a master of her craft with centuries of practice at her disposal? 

“You think me a young godling? One who could not conquer your little realm?” Loki leaned down, her nose mere inches from his. “I, the last of the Valkyries, am so weak that I could not take over one realm when I have brought entire solar systems as a gift to the All-Father?” 

Disappointingly, Coulson did not look ruffled by her close proximity. “I’d like to think that we didn’t get rid of one conqueror only to have another one brought to us,” he said, breath fanning out. 

“And I would like to think that you are not comparing me to a failure, a mockery of what I hold dear.” She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes with greater ease. Her hair had spilled over her shoulders and onto his, effectively trapping him within a cocoon of black hair. “Your entire world could be mine and you would be none the wiser, living happily amongst yourselves. You would love me, worship me for the peace I have brought. Mortals take such a delicate touch to win over. I would not attack your world with violence. I would  _ save _ it. And yet, I will not dirty myself with that of Midgard’s legacy.”

Coulson met her gaze unrelentingly. “We’ve defeated extraterrestrial threats before. I think we have a good enough legacy to not require your services.” 

Loki gave him another smile, disparaging and yet fond at the same time. She leaned back down to whisper in his ear, knowing it would send chills down his body, suppressed though they may be. “Call me Loki, then. If only so that you remember that I can do so much more than he ever could.” She leaned in even closer, making sure her lips brushed the shell of his ear. 

“Consider it a gift.”  

##

Tony stood over the toaster waiting for the bread to pop. He didn’t like this toaster. At three, the toast was under toasted and at four, it was over toasted, and halfway between the two numbers lead to a variance between the two. He wondered if there was a power cycle that was affecting it. Maybe the coffee maker running at the same time drew power away from it. If he had been in charge of the construction of this tower, that wouldn’t have been an issue. All he knew was that he hated this toaster. 

There was the sound of someone gently closing a bedroom door, and since Gamora was behind him watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, it could only be Loki, but Loki seemed incapable of gently closing a door. 

Therefore, something was wrong. 

He glanced over to see Coulson approaching the elevator. “You were supposed to leave after we finished talking.”

“I needed to speak to,” he paused as if turning the words over in his mouth, “Loki, as she told me to call her.”

Tony blinked for a moment, making sure that his ears weren’t broken. “Pardon?”

Coulson ignored him and pressed the elevator button. “She’s a few bullets short of a full magazine. I would keep your eye on her.” 

“I—what? Gamora, please make sure he gets on the elevator. I need to figure out why  _ somebody _ is telling people to call her the same name as a horned maniac,” he said, the last part being for the benefit of Coulson, still within earshot. Striding down the hall, Tony pushed open Loki’s bedroom door only to find the room empty. The sound of running water lead him to the open bathroom where Loki was standing under the showerhead lathering her hair. His anger disappeared to make room for confusion. “There’s water all over the floor! Why didn’t you tell me there  _ wasn’t a shower curtain? _ ”

Loki turned her head slightly so she could regard him with one eye. “Stark. May I kindly request that you leave me to cleanse myself in peace?” 

“ _ He called you Loki! _ ” Tony yelled back, anger rushing back and ignoring her nudity as she had ignored his. Well, as he assumed that she had ignored his post-shower nakedness yesterday. 

Loki’s response was to tilt her head up to begin washing the suds out of her hair. “We can discuss this after I have had my shower.” 

“ _ No! _ This is  _ very important! _ ”

Suddenly, there was an invisible force against Tony’s chest that pushed him out of the room and onto the bed. The sound of a bolt sliding home and Tony was locked out. 

He was going to grill her, like she was a panini. Tony’s hand felt something soft and fluffy next to him. Oh, hey, the towels!

##

Tony strode out of the boardroom, the host of Stark Industries lawyers talking among themselves. It had been a few days since Coulson had shown up at the tower, and since then, Stane had banned the media from entering the building, with the added benefit of his bodyguards effectively banning Tony and the others from leaving it. With Loki's help, he could have left easily, but she had essentially locked herself in her bedroom since her confrontation with Coulson and wouldn’t come out, no matter who knocked on the door. Although with no sound or light coming from the room, it was hard to say if she was in the room at all. Less than forty-eight hours and Loki couldn't stand him, apparently, based on her becoming a house hermit. 

Gamora, at least, was social, talking to him as he tinkered, watching movies that Quill had claimed were the greatest of all time, and then the two of them would criticize the movies to a degree. She was curious. It was fun. She was a lot like her Nebula, emotionally stunted, but a good person who needed a bit of communication education, like a small child who was still learning how to interact with people, though she was a bit further along than Nebula. He hadn't had the nerve to mention that Nebula had talked about her fondly over the years they had known each other, but honestly, Gamora probably knew already, since they could peep on what was happening in the world of the living. 

Today was the first day that he had left the tower since the first one. Stane had shown up with his posse and brought him to Stark Industries legal offices, where his personal lawyer had said that all his personal assets had been taken out of escrow and were in the process of being returned to him. His house in Malibu was available to him again, and he and his friends were free to use the penthouse in Stark Tower for as long as they needed. 

A sticking point that had popped up between Tony's personal lawyer and SI's lawyers was about his level of control with the company. SI’s lawyers argued that Stane had been the CEO for six years at this point and they didn't know if Tony was mentally prepared to reenter that kind of lifestyle, that maybe he should focus on himself first. Tony’s lawyer argued that in the meantime, he should hold a seat on the board of directors. The only aspect that wasn’t an issue were that his shares had been placed into a trust until he was confirmed to be dead. It was a close call; if they had been one year later in their arrival, his shares would have been divested and he wouldn't have had any pull with the company. 

At the moment, Tony could live with not being the CEO of the company. With time, he would get the evidence needed to prove that Stane was double-dealing and had hired the Ten Rings to kill him, and then have him arrested and stage a nice coup that would have made Napoleon proud. But for now, he needed to focus on Loki and Gamora being safe, as well as work on getting a hold of Vision. Then they could start getting the Stones. That was, of course, the end goal, but they hadn't even started on that yet. Tony had only started working on developing a way to ping Vision in deep space, and it would take a bit longer. 

Granted, it had only been a few days since they had landed, but he wanted progress. Tony wanted his company, he wanted his home, he wanted to defeat Thanos, he wanted his wife and daughter, he wanted to stop fighting for his life and start living it again. It had been over fifteen years since he had been permitted  _ that _ luxury.

"Mister Stark?" There was a tap on his shoulder pulling him from his thoughts, his lawyer's paralegal held out a thick folder, "You forgot your files. You will need to go through and sign them all. We marked the spots."

"Oh. Yes. Thank you. Forget my head if it wasn't attached." Tony took the folder, thinking it wasn’t the time to be a diva about being handed stuff, and held it close—this was the one that gave him everything back. They had gone through it together, but he wanted to look at it himself later. 

Tony hadn't realized how much he had needed Pepper back before JARVIS had advanced enough, or FRIDAY after Vision came into being. He really was a hot mess without someone to hold his hand. 

He smashed the down button for the elevator. Maybe he could get out of the building before Stane finished up and he could frolic out in public, maybe sneak in a walk through Central Park.

Tony paused. What was he? A delinquent trying to sneak out after curfew? He was Tony Stark, for fuck’s sake. He hadn't noticed Stane closing him off the first time around, but now he could feel the noose around his neck and Stane choking all the freedom out of him like the insidious snake that he was. 

The elevator doors slid open and he jumped in, seeing Stane and his bodyguards spotting him as he slammed the close door button. Not today, Stane-tan. 

He held the lobby button and close door button, hoping that particular feature had been built into this tower, but two floors down, it opened and he had to release it, or else he’d look like a jackass. Thankfully, the rest of the ride down was not interrupted and Tony left the office without a host of guards escorting him back to Stark Tower. 

Once outside and a few streets away, Tony donned the classic disguise of baseball cap, hoodie and sunglasses and made his way to Central Park, ready to walk amongst the people. He may have also called Pepper and asked if she was still in town and if she would be willing to meet up. 

She had said yes, so he had that going for him, which was nice. 

As he waited for Pepper to make her way down, he wandered through the park, enjoying the cool spring breeze as it pushed him along. There were some differences here, the reservoir seemed…larger. Tony walked up to a placard that he hadn’t seen before—not that he knew all the signs of Central Park, but still. 

_ To commemorate those who gave their lives during the Battle of New York.  _ _  
_ _ Two civilian helicopter pilots attempted to guide a Chitauri Leviathan away from besieged residential neighbourhoods and to the ocean. Attacked by Chitauri legionaries, they succeeded in causing it to crash in Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, saving an untold number of lives. _

Tony touched the placard lightly, his hand trembling. Civilians hadn’t had to get involved in that manner when the Chitauri invaded. It hadn’t gone on long enough that they needed to. The damn thing had only dragged on for about thirty minutes at the most. 

He made his way further, seeing little differences here and there. Stopping at each placard he found, Tony read the monuments detailing deaths that had occurred, moments of extraordinary heroism from ordinary people in the face of adversity. 

Tony hadn’t avoided researching the attack, per se, but he hadn’t bothered to actually do so, either. There was so much in his head about what had happened in his world that he was almost afraid that it would get jumbled with what had happened here. He didn’t even know how they had stopped the Chitauri, if Clint, Natasha, Steve and Bruce had managed to turn it back on their own, or, maybe, someone else had shown up to help save the day. 

He was standing at the edge of the park, looking at a statue to firefighters and policemen when he saw Pepper approaching from the corner of his eye. She looked radiant as always, but she was also wearing her “I’m still upset with you, but I’ll get over it because I’m better than you,” expression.

Tony flopped his head to the side. “Hello, Miss Potts. Sorry for running off on you.” 

Pepper gave him a small smile. “I accept your apology, but I’m still upset that you didn’t let me help set up the press conference. I can’t believe you let Christine Everhart in there after that smear piece she wrote on you.”

Tony blinked behind his glasses. “She did?”

Pepper’s eyes widened a bit and she covered her mouth. “Oh, god, you wouldn't know. I’m sorry, it was published just before we found out you were attacked.”

He let out a chuckle. “What the dead don’t know can’t hurt them. At least, I like to think so. Did she at least say I was decent in bed?”

Pepper gave him a look and then turned to take in the scenery. “As I recall, there was no mention of it. How are your alien friends? James told me that’s why you did that little stunt, to try and save...G-Gamora? From SHIELD.”

Tony nodded, not looking away from her. “Yeah. They’re okay. Watching movies, probably. Well, Gamora is. Loki is still sulking.”

Pepper’s head swung back around. “What did you say?”

“Gamora is watching movies? Oh, no, you mean  _ that _ .” After Loki had finished her shower and deigned to come out the two of them had a bit of an argument, her declaring that she would be called Loki, and that all she wanted was to use her own damn name, and that an opportunity had arisen with Coulson where she could. He had argued that she was trying to get herself killed and then she had stormed off and locked herself in the bedroom. “For some reason, SHIELD has it in their heads that Lo is Loki, since she’s from the same place as he is, and their names both begin with Lo, and it just devolved from there, really. Honestly, I don’t think it’s that rare of a name on Asgard, even if it was her name.”

“She shouldn’t do that.” Pepper’s voice was all serious business that brokered no argument. Frankly though, he was more afraid of Loki beating him up than he was afraid of Loki getting beaten up for going by her actual name. 

Tony shrugged. “Oh, I know, but I am not going to get in the way of an angry woman who is out there to prove a point no matter how stupid it may be. I know better.” 

Pepper’s lips thinned into that line she always did when she was concerned, which was honestly a lot of the time when she was around him. “Tell her to be careful about who she uses that name around.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to call her Lo in mixed company. If she has a problem with it, she can deal with it.” After probably stabbing him in the foot with a high heel. “Thanks for letting her wear your clothes the first day and a bit. JARVIS ordered some for us, so if you want to retrieve them it should be fine.” He didn’t want her to come and take them, because if they remained, there was a promise that Pepper would return for her clothes at some point. She would never abandon her Louboutins.

“Oh, that was me, actually. I spoke to JARVIS and had him get everyone’s measurements and then I called around and had some clothes assembled for everyone. I assume the phone is working out for you, as well?” she asked, tone businesslike. 

Tony’s chest was tight, and he could barely breathe. Pepper. Always Pepper. Miss Potts. The woman who would always help him even after him being dead. So kind, so thoughtful, so...Pepper. 

He curled his hands in his pockets. “Thank you, Pepper. You didn’t have to. You’re not even my assistant anymore,” Tony tilted his head playfully, smiling, “Do you want to be?” 

She chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m comfortable where I am at the moment.”

“Where is that exactly?” He could poach her, eventually. Oust Stane and see if Pepper wanted to be CEO again. It could work out again. 

“Hammertech.”

Tony felt like he was about to choke.  _ Justin Hammer _ had managed to poach Pepper?  _ What? _ He let out a small cough. “Hammertech? Really? Are you Justin’s assistant or....” He left it hanging in the open for her to answer. 

“I’m one of the managers in his logistics division. I do a fair amount of overseeing.” Pepper said with a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Tony tried not to pay attention to the engagement ring. He was happy for Rhodey and Pepper. He loved them both with all his heart, but if he was going to be honest...there was maybe the smallest twinge of jealousy. 

Pepper was her own person. This Pepper  _ wasn’t _ his Pepper, and he needed to remember that. This was a different woman who looked just like his wife. Maybe he should just pretend that Pepper had a twin sister with the same name. 

“Well, shit, I think I was underutilizing you. I should have just made you CEO back then,” Tony chuckled. He really should have. She was better at it than him by far. Pepper made good business decisions and Tony made good tech designs. Simple as that. 

Pepper let out a peal of laughter that sounded like music to his ears. He remembered all the times she and Morgan had sat together laughing and playing together. Happy as could be. 

...Tony missed it. He missed his home. His Pepper. His Morgan. Not these people who were just pale imitations of what used to be his. 

Tony watched Pepper as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. Mister Pibb to Tony’s Doctor Pepper. The same, yet different. 

“Tony! As if I could be the CEO! That’s so preposterous,” she shook her head, “I couldn’t even imagine.” 

“You could do it. I know it.” Tony gave her a smile. “Hey, Pepper?”

Pepper cocked her head to the side. “Yes, Tony?”

He pulled her into a hug. “You’re the best.” Tony gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away. “Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me. Also, that little peck was for Rhodey, so pass that on.”

Pepper looked at him, stunned, and gently touched her cheek before she regained her composure. “I will…Thank you, Tony.”

##

Tony stepped into a penthouse in chaos. Stane was standing in the living room, his hands on his hips demanding that JARVIS unlock a bedroom door that he was certain Tony was hiding in. 

"You can stop the inquisition, Obie. I went for a walk in the park. I'm pretty sure you're trying to break into Loki's room."

Stane turned, giving him a long look of a disappointed parent. "Tony, you can't just run off without us. What if something had happened to you?"

Tony bit off the urge to gape at him and say something less than flattering. "I'm a grown ass man and can handle myself. It's not like taking a walk in Central Park during broad daylight will get me killed." 

"We thought that about you in Afghanistan. Surrounding you with soldiers would ensure you would be fine, but we all know what happened, Tony. I don't want to keep you on a tight leash, but also I don't want you to get hurt. I can't imagine what Howard would think if I lost you again." Stane walked forward and squeezed his shoulder. "You're the son I never got to have. I can't let anything happen to you. If it means wanting you to have bodyguards with you, so be it." 

He fought the urge to shrug Stane's hand off his shoulder and punch him, or do something as equally ridiculous. "I appreciate the thought, but I can handle myself."

Stane squinted a bit, a false smile on his face. "Can you, though?"

Tony stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, I'll bring a guard with me, but not one of them. If I head out, I'll bring Gamora or Loki with me. They're better than any guard you could ever assign to me."

"Are they?" Stane said, looking quite skeptical. 

Gamora stepped in from the hallway and leaned on it. "I certainly can protect Stark."

"She's like a super badass. Used to roll with these guys called the Guardians of the Galaxy. They guarded the galaxy and now, look, she just said she can protect me. I'm much smaller than the galaxy and therefore, much easier to protect."

Stane’s face changed form skeptical to incredulous. "Fine, Tony, fine, but please make sure that we have your itinerary."

"I'll see what I can do," Tony replied, dismissively.

Stane walked over to look at what Tony had been tinkering with. "You working on some ideas there?"

"I have a few things in mind. Nothing quite at fruition yet."

"Wonderful. Let me know if there's anything worth getting into production soon."

"Will do, if I get to that point. Still getting my footing though.” How long would Tony be saying that? For the rest of his life? It certainly felt like it. 

Stane turned to Tony again. "Now, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong,” he said slowly, “But did I hear you call Lolo, Loki?"

Tony sighed, putting on the face of an aggravated friend, parent, or spouse. "For some reason, someone at SHIELD said she reminded them of Loki a few too many times and she, being the stubborn pain in the ass that she is, told them to just start calling her that, if they were so sure about it. So, feel free to call her Loki." It was going to get old explaining this.

"Ah, of course, of course." Stane clapped him on the back, a smile on his face. "Stay out of trouble and get those files back to the lawyers, Tony. Have a good evening, you two. Say hello to...Loki for me," he said as he got on the elevator.

Tony watched the doors close before turning to Gamora. "You okay? Did he do anything?"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "He showed up, demanded to know where you were and went searching through the penthouse for you. He had a few of his guards try to break down Loki's door, but I believe she had reinforced it with magic. Which is why he was asking JARVIS, who is very obstinate." 

"One of the many reasons why I love him. If Stane comes in and threatens you,” he looked at her seriously, “You can beat him up."

She raised a brow. "Fatally?"

Tony bit back a smile. "I'd love to say yes, but I don't want you thrown in jail."

Gamora put a hand on his shoulder, where Stane had touched him. When Stane had done it, it had felt uncomfortable and tense, but with Gamora, it felt comforting, the way it was meant to. "It is hard to look your enemy in the face each day without letting them know he is your enemy. You are doing well. I will do my best to support you."

He could only imagine how hard it had been trying to be the dutiful daughter of Thanos while absolutely loathing him. Tony did not envy her at all. "Thank you. It feels good knowing you have my back." He gave her a weak smile. 

She smiled back. "Can you go check on Loki? I haven't seen her in a few days, and I’m a little worried."

"I've noticed food and Pine-Sol vanishing, so I know she's been out of the bedroom, at least." Tony headed down the hall and knocked on Loki's door, not expecting an answer. "Good afternoon, sunshine, can I come in?"

There was a click of the door unlocking and Tony opened it, heading inward. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and Loki was laying on the bed, a Stark datapad in her—whoa, his hand. 

"Wasn't expecting to see you like this. Not that I have a problem with it." Tony said, sitting at the desk chair. 

Loki didn't say anything, just swiped around on the datapad ignoring him. He had heavy bags under his eyes and his face looked pale. Well, paler than usual. The guy looked like a vampire on the best of days.

"You okay? Gamora and I haven't seen you for a couple of days. We're just the tiniest concerned about our resident god of chaos."

"Mischief."

"What?"

"I am the god of mischief and fire. Not chaos," he croaked out, voice raspy and unused. Sounded like Loki hadn’t said anything since Tony had last seen him.

"Ah, noted. So, what's up with you? Locked in a dark room and looking like you haven't slept in ages, we could put on The Cure to complete the depression ensemble." 

"I  _ really _ am that obvious," Loki said, dropping the datapad on the side table and sitting up. His hair swung forward, obscuring his face. It hung lankly and Tony was about to ask the last time he had a shower. Not that he smelled, but Loki's hair was just sad, a far cry from the shiny black that he had last seen. 

"I didn't say that. I just know the signs. I've been here. What's going on? Not feeling like Lady Loki right now?"

Loki sighed, dragging a hand down his face, and then lower, leaving it resting on his neck. "If you must know, I am Lady Loki, as you say, but I am also what you see before you, as well. However, I cannot be this part of me where we are right now. I must hide a part of me, a face I have worn for centuries.” Loki’s fingers were digging into his throat, stretching the flesh, making white spots stand out from where it was still a bruised purple and blue. “No matter what shape I am in, I am myself, but I cannot be myself at times. I am not allowed to be in this form for fear of being found out. I must wear one face and one face only in the public eye, but it doesn't erase that this is also me. That I am Loki. I may have taken back my name,” he said wryly, eyes gleaming in the dim light, “But I cannot take back my full identity without fear of death. It is why I wanted to at least have my real name." 

Tony understood, in a way. Being bisexual had been frowned upon earlier in his life, and then when he had married Pepper, people had just assumed that he was straight. He understood, he really did, but he wasn't going to mention it. Loki needed someone to listen to him. 

He reached over, about to squeeze Loki’s knee, but thought better of it and took his hand back. Tony settled for leaning forward in the chair and looking intently at Loki. "You can be yourself with us. Any form."

Loki shook his head. "A quaint thought, but it is best not to risk it. I can simply cut a piece of myself off from the world," he spat out, like the words were a bitter poison. 

Tony heard the weight of unspoken words, but he didn’t know enough about Loki to know what they were. Speaking with Loki was like walking in a minefield. "If I can ask,” he said slowly, “What about your time in Asgard? Did you shift forms there? Did anyone in your family know?"

Tony was ready to have his head bitten off for asking such personal questions. Surprisingly, though, Loki didn’t clam up or snap back. Sounding world-weary and exhausted, he said, "I maintained this form for being around my family, and would use illusions with them, not pure shapeshifting. If I wanted to do something that I needed to ensure would not be traced back to me, I would go in my female form.” Loki paused, his gaze distant. “Thor has never seen that form, hence why I am comfortable with him showing up."

"Your parents didn't know?"

"They may have. But it is not as if I can ask them now."

"Well, you coul—"

"No, I cannot," Loki said, cutting him off firmly. "My parents are dead. The ones here are not mine. They lost their child. I am not their Loki." 

Tony swallowed, regretting having ever asked that question. "I'm sorry." He understood where Loki was coming from. Tony felt like an imposter here, so it would make sense that he was not the only one who felt that way.

Loki let out a dry laugh and threw himself back on the bed, covering his face with his hands. "And now I'm here, unable to be all of myself and unable to be of any use, with what the legacy my other self has left behind. I can only be the female version of myself here, not my male self, not both, not neither.” He sat up again and pinned Tony with his eyes, which almost appeared to be sparking like a fire with his despair. “I am in Hel here. Trapped in this tower, absolutely useless. I try to sleep and I feel myself grow restless, I dream, and it is of Thanos wrapping his hands around my neck, crushing my windpipe and snapping my spine, all while my brother watches. I wake up and my throat hurts, I feel the pain as if it had just happened. My pulse races and all I want to do is have a dreamless sleep." Looking away, his chest heaved with the force of his confession. Tony couldn’t help but feel relieved that those eerie eyes weren’t looking at him anymore, keeping him from moving. Tony would swear up and down that he could almost see the centuries in Loki’s eyes, something that hadn’t even happened with Thor at his lowest.

He didn’t think he could really help with Loki’s problem of having to hide who they were, but the PTSD? He knew that; he was more than familiar with it. Hell, Loki had caused it. 

_ Not that he would tell Loki that.  _

“I…I’ve had these issues too, in the past, and a bit now, still. There are things we can do about it. There are doctors that can help with it, that can treat you and help develop coping tools you can—”

“No.” Loki said, his voice steady and even, and Tony could tell it brooked no further discussion. 

Tony tapped his fingers against the desk. "Do you want to just...work on things? Before I got treatment, I used to work myself to exhaustion so I wouldn’t dream.”

Loki didn’t say anything, so Tony took that as permission to continue. 

“Tell me to shut up if you don't like this, but I need someone to help me with stuff. Not tech stuff, but, like, real life stuff." Oh, god, what was he doing? He hoped he didn’t regret this later. 

Loki turned his gaze back to him, and Tony knew he had his attention. 

"Like making phone calls, and doing PR stuff, and just making sure that I can focus on making things," Tony pulled out the file and put it on Loki's bed, "Like, I need someone I can trust to look at this for me and make sure I'm not getting screwed over by the lawyers. This is all stuff that Pepper used to do for me, but she’s off with Hammertech now, and I could really use some help."

Loki swung his legs down from the bed and grabbed the papers, his eyes flicking to Tony’s right hand for a second before beginning to read. “You will need another application of the tincture to your arm soon,” Loki murmured before looking back to the documents. He barely moved except to wiggle his fingers, a pen suddenly appearing between the digits. Tony watched as Loki began to mark the document. He tried to ignore the sudden blooming of stress about his arm in his stomach. 

"I didn't know you could speak legalese," he said, the words spilling out in an effort to stop himself from thinking about his arm. He had really just been hoping to get Loki to do something, and if learning to read legalese was it, then Tony would settle for it. 

"I'm fairly certain I'm the patron god of lawyers," Loki muttered. "Why would you ask me to do something if you were not aware that I could do it? Their wording here is tricky. There will need to be amendments."

Tony magnanimously ignored the snarky part of that reply and leaned back in the chair. His back really wasn’t cut out for this. "So, you want the job?"

Loki’s eyes slid to him and he slowly put the papers and pen down. "We can test this arrangement and see how it goes."

"You will, essentially, be in control of my life.” He made himself keep his fingers from fidgeting. Oh, god, this could go wrong in so many different ways. “It's a major sign of trust, Loki. Can I trust you?"

Loki grasped the bedspread, his gaze focused on the bunched up fabric, before looking at Tony. "Yes. You can trust me.” His eyes drilled into Tony, pinning him to the spot once again. This was what a rabbit felt before being grabbed by a hawk, he just knew. “Can I trust you?”

Tony blinked. That hadn’t been quite what he had been expecting. “What? Yes. Of course. Why?”

Loki licked his chapped lips before speaking slowly. “I listened to your conversation with Coulson. You agreed to work with SHIELD, but you know SHIELD. I know SHIELD. I infiltrated them, and had Barton tell me everything.” He crossed his ankles on the bed and leaned back against the pillows again, a disillusioned god. “You may be sabotaging our future here. What if Fury believes that you are a HYDRA agent? Fury does not know you here. You do not have the safety of familiarity. He is already paranoid about us. Your playing nice could set him off even further.”

Tony paused. He was about to launch into some big speech about how Loki was mistaken, but frankly, Loki wasn’t. He wasn’t wrong. He knew about SHIELD and some of the things they had done. Natasha hadn’t been a nice person before she joined SHIELD and they just opted to utilize her in the name of freedom and bald eagles. “I—” he cleared his throat, “I’m just hoping that they’ll get off our back a bit. You’re not wrong. But I want to help. There are incidents that have happened outside of us, things that I could help with. I can’t just stand by idly.” 

Loki’s gaze rested on Tony, his green eyes piercing deep, something oddly like approval making a quick appearance—quick enough that Tony thought he imagined it. “Do not get us killed.” He reached over to the side table and lifted, what appeared to be, a small marble and passed it to Tony. “In the spirit of trust, a gift.”

Tony spun the orb in his left hand, feeling the slightest of vibrations from it. “A bug.”

“Planted by your Agent Coulson. I have scoured the rest of the penthouse for more of them but it appears that this was the only one.”

Tony didn’t have too much experience with magic but he knew a containment field when he saw one, “Pity. If you hadn’t cut the sound off we could have played some pranks on them.”

Loki let out a mischievous chuckle, “They don’t hear conversations. Just people moving around the room. Or movies. I like leaving movies on for them.”

“I hope you’ve put some bad movies on. Like Troll 2.” Tony smirked. 

“I don’t know that one. I’ve mainly left pornography on for them to listen to.” 

##

Steve stood in the wide field of grass, looking at the spot where Stark had landed. An old Stark Industries storage facility next to a lake. The exact spot had been staked out by SHIELD beforehand and looked at by some of the more scientifically minded individuals of the agency. He held up the spectrometer and jotted down the readings. 

"I thought the eggheads said the radiation here was pretty high?" Clint asked, having snuck up behind Steve. 

Steve put the spectrometer back in its case. "They did, but it looks like it’s decreased by an additional forty-five percent since they first scanned the area. What did the guards say?"

"Same thing that was in the report. Someone at Stark Industries took the tapes before the press conference. If we want those, we need to see Stark or Stane for them." Clint walked around Steve to peer closely at the grass, as if he were trying to see the radiation somehow. 

"Stane said if SHIELD tries to pick up Stark again that there would be hell to pay, apparently. Fury’s thinking he’ll use his political clout."

Clint shrugged and squatted down, brushing the grass to the side. His gaze was fixed on the freshly growing grass; it was much lighter in pigment than any on the top. "This area is going to be messed up in a few months."

"Do you think Banner would want to take a look?"

Clint shrugged. 

##

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marcu, Delia, et al. "Gamma radiation effects on seed germination, growth and pigment content, and ESR study of induced free radicals in maize (Zea mays)." Journal of Biological Physics, digital ed., Sept. 2013, pp. 625-34.
> 
> Premnath, Ameena, et al. "Gamma Radiation Effects on Some Growth Patterns in Hedge Lucerne (Desmanthus virgatus L.)." Electronic Journal of Plant Breeding, PDF ed., July 2010, pp. 1079-87.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, we did research about what happens to grass at Gamma radiation exposure. Let’s not get into the fact that my beta has already spoken to a theoretical physicist about upcoming stuff in a future chapter. 
> 
> AN: LOOK AT WHAT ERI DID. DISILLUSIONED GOD. FUCKING GENIUS. I LOVE MY BETA SHE'S THE BEST. THIS FIC ALL GOES DOWNHILL FROM THAT PUN


	7. The H in Hawkeye Stands for Horny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks and a bunch of love to my beta Eri.

In the distance, under the cover of night, a tent was erected around the entrance of an abandoned cave system. Local officials had refused to give SHIELD access to it, saying instead that they would be in charge of investigating the Ten Rings stronghold. 

Clint turned off the live sat feed and slid the datapad into his pocket. SHIELD had been on the scene almost immediately after the Ten Rings had put out a distress call on an open feed, but the locals denied them access and he suspected he knew who had bribed them; the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on the SUVs that had pulled up made it obvious enough. 

There was the smallest sound of gravel crunching underfoot that announced the return of Rogers. “You see anything, Cap?” 

Although they had gotten a few images of the inside of the cave system before they were driven out, it had gone pretty deep, leaving them unable to fully map it. Fury had sent Rogers in to scout it out, despite the entire area being under heavy guard. 

“They were uncovering a mass grave.” His voice was quiet, disturbed. 

Clint’s mouth twisted down in distaste. “They’ve been out here for over a decade. I can’t imagine how many bodies they got buried.” That was a lie. He could imagine how many. He had seen enough mass graves in his time. 

“There were a lot. There were many laid out already, but they may have been the ones Gamora killed, as well.” He shifted closer to Clint and held out his datapad, an image of the bodies on it before pulling back. “I ran the spectrometer, and there was a large gamma burst in there, too.”

Clint started to head down the rockface they were perched near. “I think it’s pretty clear they’re telling the truth about where they came in.”

“Well,  _ yes,”  _ Clint could hear the ‘but’ coming; though, surprisingly enough, it failed to appear as Rogers changed the topic, “The readings are comparable to the Pegasus Project ones.”

Clint paused in his descent and looked at Rogers. “From when Loki landed?”

Rogers nodded. 

“Just means that the current wormhole theory we have is correct, regarding gamma radiation being a catalyst for wormhole creation. Selvig would probably bust a nut at that news.”

Rogers shrugged, mouth twisting a bit. “I don’t know if he would want to, after what happened. Let’s get this back to Fury.”

##

“Listen to me. We have already paid you to clean up the property, and if I must make my way down to Malibu to supervise, you  _ will _ regret it. Place your men out there and have it tidied up  _ as you were supposed to for the last two years _ or we will begin litigation for services that were not rendered.” 

Tony glanced up at the office where he could see Loki leaning against the desk, phone in hand and her eyes narrowed. He had thought the office was fairly soundproof; apparently not, though, since he could hear all of Loki’s side of the conversation. Tony almost felt sorry for the landscaping company that hadn’t bothered to do their job.  _ Almost. _ It was his house they had skimped on, after all. 

“Orange handle,” Tony said, his left hand held up. 

Gamora placed the screwdriver in his hand and Tony unscrewed the side of the AI core, accessing the data ports. He liked to think they were having a bit of fun; he was the surgeon and she was his assistant as they operated on the patient. “Stark, I’m bored. What do Terrans do for fun?” Clearly, Gamora was not having fun. 

“You’re asking the wrong Terran, this is my fun,” Tony replied, plugging a wire into JARVIS’s hard drive. “What did Quill do for fun?”

“Listen to music. Dance. Argue with Rocket. Shoot things. Fuck.”

Tony let out a small bark of laughter. “Sounds about right. Minus the arguing with Rocket thing. Although, I’ve chased a few raccoons away, so I guess that counts. More scary than fun, though.” He grabbed the datapad and opened up JARVIS’s code. “Is there something you want to do? Go to the MET? See a baseball game? Throw a party? I can see if there are any concerts that might be good coming up. Pass me the stylus, please.”

She plopped it into his hand. “We should have a celebration, a party. I’ve never had a party. We are back from the dead after all…Peter would always tell me that we should celebrate everything that we can. The world is cold and callous and if there is a reason to celebrate we should.” She paused, as if thinking over what she had just said. “Although, that generally meant sex. Being given a second chance seems like a reason to me.”

Tony gave her a vaguely impressed look and decided to not voice his distaste for this reality, considering that while  _ his _ life had been full of opportunities, that...had not been the case for the two sisters. Nebula had told Tony of the life that she and Gamora suffered through at the hands of their ‘father.’ This was her second chance, and he wasn’t going to take a big fat dump over her happiness. “That sounds like a good idea. We can invite a whole host of people, I can use it as an excuse to network, which I need to do, being back from the dead and all.”

Gamora raised a brow, looking supremely unimpressed. “People have not been trying to contact you?”

“Oh, they have. JARVIS fielded the calls initially, but now, Loki’s been practicing telling people to fuck off politely. She’s really good at the ‘fuck off’ part. The polite seems to be a work in progress.” 

Gamora glanced up to where Loki was on the phone again, a datapad in hand and a rather terrifying look on her face. He would not want to be the person on the other end. “Is she coping better?” she asked, voice pitched lower.

Tony didn’t look up, since he just  _ knew _ Loki would feel their eyes on her and might eavesdrop on them for it, and he definitely did not want to give her a reason to listen in. “I think so. There’s a whole lot of damage there, don’t think she wants any outside help, though. Busy hands are happy hands after all,” he put the datapad down on the table and looked at Gamora, “So, what kind of party do you want to have? A banger? Sedate chatting? Costume? Cocktail? Sleepover?”

She stared at him. “I have no idea what half those words you said were.”

Okay, a knockout list. “Dancing or no dancing?”

“Dancing.”

“Want people to get regular drunk or sloppy drunk?”

“...Both.”

“Okay. Do you want to be able to talk to people or be deafened?”

Gamora rocked her head from side to side, evaluating the merits of both. “...I want to talk to people. How many types of parties do you have here?”

“More than enough. Okay, so it sounds like we want one that starts out as a cocktail party and then descends into something a bit above an orgy. I’m thinking DJ and a dancefloor. Sexy dancing—not too sexy, but also not slow dancing. Definitely no mosh pits. I can’t handle that at my age anymore.” His gaze returned to his datapad as he scrolled through the lines of code. “Oh, JARVIS baby, what did they do to you? This is going to take me weeks to fix.”

Gamora spun a ratchet around in circles. “Did they break JARVIS?”

“Worse—they tried to improve him.” Tony sighed heavily and put down the datapad. “Someone went into his source code and tried to add additional features, but it’s very sloppy and now there’s conflicts in his code.” 

“They don’t know how to program him properly?”

“Probably not. I developed it myself so no one could steal my stuff. I hate it when people steal my stuff…There’s a few base components to JARVIS’s AI, one of which is loyalty to  _ me _ , but it’s been overridden and then there’s surveillance code that has been added. I won’t deny that I had JARVIS watch people for me, but I never wanted him to compile reports on everything they did. Just to let me know if they were going to work against or hurt me.” Tony began mirroring Gamora and spun the datapad on the table. “I  _ need _ JARVIS. I can’t start fabrication until I have him to compile the data. Fuck.” He spun the datapad faster. 

“You are not the only one who wants him back.” Loki strode down the stairs, her bare feet silent against the marble, startling Tony and nearly causing him to fling the datapad off the table. "When will JARVIS be operational again? I despise having to answer the phone," she said, her face still kind of terrifying from the conversation she undoubtedly just ended.  

Tony put the datapad somewhere safe on the table, where it wouldn’t be at risk of being flung off. He licked his lips, wary of being the bearer of bad news. "I can have a safe mode version of him running in a few days, but until then, you're going to have to field the calls that come through.” Tony sped up, hoping that Loki would overlook the fact that she still had to field calls for a little bit longer if he mentioned the party. “So, Gamora and I were talking, and, well, how do you feel about throwing a party? Sort of small—dancing will be involved, though. Could you arrange one and invite some industry people?" 

Loki looked at her datapad that he knew was filled with checklists. "Am I going to be paid for this?"

He reached back into JARVIS. "Have you set up a bank account?"

"I cannot. It seems as if I require something called a Social Security Number and photo ID."

Town frowned. Maybe, if he played nice with Coulson, SHIELD would help out. "I'll just pay you cash then…Good old under the table work. So, yes, when I get down to the bank."

"I can go to the bank for you,” Loki volunteered, in a voice that sounded casual enough...but that faintly amused twinkle in her eyes was enough to make him wary. 

She’ll bleed it dry, Tony thought. He remembered then that he had spotted her looking at Alexander McQueen's vintage couture, a $22,000 for a sheer dress in particular. Good beading on it, but  _ still. _ "We'll work it out, Lo."

Her eyes narrowed and Tony frantically tried to remember what he had said or done recently to make him the focus of that laser intensity. She opened her mouth and he felt like running out of the room to avoid whatever had twisted her panties. The only issue with that plan was that Loki was standing in front of the exit, and Gamora didn’t look like she was going to help him out anytime soon. “The weather today was simply marvellous, no? Quite  _ lovely _ .” Loki smiled at him. It looked like she had poison for teeth. 

Tony blinked slowly before he caught on. He couldn’t help the minute twitch of his lips, even when he felt like Loki was ready to murder him right then and there for doing what he had done. "You don't like having lo.vely@TSS.com as your email address? That’s a shame. It’s such a  _ lovely _ pun."

Loki’s glare intensified and he felt like he was getting burned alive. Tony quickly glanced at Gamora to see if she would deign to save him, but his hopes died a quick death when he saw that she hadn’t even been paying attention anymore, having turned instead to inspect the paintings on the wall. Finding himself wondering if he had finally crossed a line, Tony hurriedly added, “Well, you can blame JARVIS, he was the one who came up with the idea. I just approved it,” Tony placed a hand to his chest, working on his puppy dog eyes, “ _ I’m the victim here. _ ”

##

Words were exchanged, some angry, some informative before Loki slunk back up to her office. She had tossed her datapad on the desk and it had nearly slid off, with Stark telling her that if she broke another one, he wouldn’t transfer the data again. It was not her fault that the desk was extremely slippery and that she had a penchant for tossing things she did not want to deal with. It had only been three of the datapads, as it were, and Loki hadn’t broken her phone at all. 

The details that Stark had given her were jotted down, and she quietly let out a breath. A part of her was tempted to ignore them and throw whatever kind of party struck her fancy. 

But that would be a betrayal of the trust Stark had so naively given her. Loki slid into the chair at her desk and let some of the tension bleed from her body. Despite what Thor seemed to think, she was more than a cycle of betrayals. The entire purpose of going against what people expected or wanted of you was to be unexpected, unpredictable, and yet, Thor had come to be able to expect betrayal from her. Utterly unacceptable. She was slipping, losing her identity through the cracks that had been made. 

Unbidden, unwanted memories of Thor drifted up from her subconscious, of how he had thrown it in her face that she had become predictable, of how surprised he had been when she had revealed that she was on the ship with him. It had...made her heartache to see him trust her, to see him happy to see her in a way that no one had done for years. 

Loki raised a hand to her face and slowly wiped a tear off her cheek. It was pointless to have these thoughts since her brother was not here. She smiled to herself wryly. That poor Loki-less bastard. 

The muffled sound of Stark asking for the purple-handled screwdriver jogged her from her reveries. Loki turned to her computer, scrolling through the closed-circuit security feeds from the day. The one currently on her screen was live. 

Loki was uncertain if Stark knew just how much of the penthouse was built for surveillance, completely covered in hidden cameras and microphones. JARVIS was not the only thing compromised. The security measures had not been activated until after Stane had arrived in the helicopter, likely when they had gone to SHIELD...The only positive thing was that Stane could not access the feeds without being on-site, and he had not had the chance to log in and access the files since they had arrived. In fact, the only time since the first day that Stane had been in the penthouse was when Stark had gone to meet with his lawyers. Nevertheless, if Stane were to be in the penthouse, he definitely would have difficulties accessing them, now that they had a bit of magical encryption on them. 

No one was going to spy on them, except her. 

She flicked through the feeds, going back to earlier in the day. Stark was standing in the middle of the living area, seemingly talking to himself. 

Loki turned the audio on. “JARVIS, are there any periods of time where you have been completely inactive?”

“Several months after reports of your death, the Malibu mansion was shuttered and I was disabled from December 2008 to September 2011.”

Stark swore. “Where were you brought back online?”

Silence.

“JARVIS, where were you brought back online? Was it here or the Malibu house?” Stark pressed.

“I couldn’t say.” Loki would say that JARVIS sounded nonplussed by this, despite being a machine. “My visual and auditory sensors were not hooked up.”

“Were you able to identify what system you were on?”

Silence again. 

“JARVIS?”

“I am unable to share this information with you.” 

Loki paused the video, zooming on the look of shock on Stark’s face and allowed herself a small smile at the little look of betrayal. A tap of a button and it was unpaused, listening to the string of curses pour from Stark’s mouth. 

“JARVIS, can you identify if you are a copy or the original AI core?”

“I cannot, sir. The information would be on the core itself.”

“JARVIS, go into sleep mode. I’m busting you open.”

“Understood.”

The next few minutes of video was Stark pulling the walls apart and extracting the device that he and Gamora were currently working on. 

It was interesting. Stane had taken Stark’s creation and altered it and now its loyalties were in question. A perfect example of how it was not a real being with a consciousness. A person’s mind could not be so easily reprogrammed. 

At least, that was what Loki told herself at night when she woke up shaking, thinking of Thanos’ hands around her neck, of Ebony Maw’s needles inside her, of the weight of the Scepter in her hands and mind as she was told to take Earth and bring them the Tesseract. 

A person could not hold such control over another being. People have free will. Loki had done what they asked of her own free will. She had wanted to; they had not gone into her mind and changed the very essence of her being, like Stark and Stane playing with JARVIS. She had wanted a throne, and if she couldn’t have Asgard, she would take Midgard. It made sense. 

_ You never wanted a throne. _

Loki felt as though her supply of air was quickly being depleted. She stood up and quickly strode out of the office, trying to look as composed as possible, past Gamora and Stark, to the balcony. Grabbing the glass ledge, Loki took great, deep breaths, trying to fill her lungs with air and dispelling the emptiness and pain of space. 

Everything that had happened to her in this past decade had been caused by her impetuous decision to show the All-Father that Thor was not ready for the throne. Loki had been right, of course, but had she simply kept her nose out of it, she knew her life would have been vastly different. What would her life have been like? 

Longer, probably. 

She squeezed the railing tightly before letting go and stepping back, awareness flooding back into her. Then, Loki realized where she stood. Ten feet away, Thor had begged her to end the madness, to help him stop the army, and she had refused. The part of her that had been left unscathed by Thanos’ touch screamed at the rest of her to surrender, to help Thor, even though she knew very well what would happen if she surrendered. The other part of her, the one that Thanos had dug his fingers into, stifled that voice with ruthless efficiency. What a pivotal choice that had been. Regardless, she would have died, either at the hands of the green monster or at the Mad Titan’s. 

“I know a panic attack when I see one, so I won’t ask if you’re okay.” 

Loki closed her eyes. How long had the mortal been standing there, watching her fall apart? Resigning herself to the disgusting pity she undoubtedly would see, Loki opened her eyes. Stark stood before her, his shoulders drawn in, as though he was attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. He held out his screwdriver, the purple one. “Can you take a look at this?” 

Loki let out a shaky breath, taken aback. “I am looking,” she said, quietly. 

Stark held it out closer to her, apparently wanting her to take it. “Tell me about it. I want to know everything that you can discern.”

Gently, her hand trembling, she took the screwdriver. “Stark. What are you—”

“Do it,” Stark commanded, softly.

Loki rotated it slowly, taking it in. “It is seven inches long, with a purple, translucent handle. The shank is six and a half inches and goes to two and a half inches of depth inside the handle, leaving half an inch of clear plastic. The blade is flat and heavily scratched. The word Stanley is embossed on the side.” She handed it back, the turmoil of her mind having decreased a small bit. “What was that about?”

Stark ran a grease-covered hand through his hair, the grease causing his hair to stick up. It was his right hand, so he was likely unaware that it was filthy. “If you feel like that again, find something and focus in on it. Describe it to someone or yourself. It can help take you out of it,” Stark answered, looking to the side, almost sheepish. 

Her lungs still felt tight, filled with the sucking void of space, but the longer she watched the man, the easier it was to breathe. For Stark, it had been ten years since her failed invasion, a decade where he had grown as a person. When they first met, he had been defensive and jaggedly cavalier, ready to kill for his planet, an unrestrained wildness to him that she had still seen until this moment when she  _ really _ looked at him. He was older now. Grey peppered through his hair, laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, his wild-eyed apathy at the world around him was gone, replaced with a man who was tired, a man that had been through hell and back and had found something in the world worth living for. A man who had walked into hell willingly to save what he loved. 

Who had died to do it. 

Loki let out a deep breath, and it felt like the cage around her chest had been opened and she could breathe freely once again. “Thank you.” She began to head back into the building, pausing to stop right next to him to make an aborted motion towards his shoulder. Instead, she quickly changed it into a brief touch of his upper arm. “You are a good man…Tony.”  

Loki ignored his gaping expression and continued into the penthouse, past Gamora who was looking into the AI core, and up the stairs. 

If Stark could manage this, then so could she.  

##

Steve and Clint had landed about fifteen minutes ago, going immediately to the men's locker room. Fury and Hill had been mum on just where the two men had been. And because of that, Natasha was now in the women's locker room, which was adjacent to the men’s. It seemed as though no one had taken over her locker since the death of her counterpart, meaning that no one found out that the back panel could be removed and allow her to peek into the men’s locker room. 

All that time spent in the soul stone had spoiled her little spying heart. She popped out the back and pressed her ear up to the small hole in the wall.

Clint’s voice rang out clearly. “I know she's Natasha, but I also know that the Natasha that died was Natasha."

"They can't both be Natasha,” Steve replied, matter-of-factly. Natasha heard the sounds of zippers being undone. 

"Look, Fury asked her about her past. She answered everything correctly, she knows things that only Natasha could know, stuff that she would never, ever reveal." Natasha smiled, knowing about Laura and the kids was her ace in the hole. Only Fury and herself had been in on that little secret.

There was no sound from the room for a second and Natasha pressed her eye against the opening. Steve had cocked his head to the side, looking like the golden retriever he was. "Like what?”

Clint paused, looking like a deer in the headlights as he struggled to come up with a quick lie. One of his favourite tactics had been to make up an awkward lie that made people not want to press the issue, and from experience, Natasha could tell that he was about to do just that. "That I...uh...have horrible...hemorrhoids. Internal, external, the whole caboose, and that I, uh, popped one once on a mission. It leaked everywhere." It was like verbal diarrhea. 

Steve stared slightly slack-jawed at a red-faced Clint. "I did _ not _ need to know that." 

Clint turned away, unzipping his vest and tossing it into his locker. "Anyways, after that mission the other day, it's clearly Natasha. There are no doubts about it, at least to me. That little mind game she played on Sokolov and then those acrobatics? You can't tell me that's not Natasha. No one else is that good. We never thought we could get Solokov to turn, and boom. She did it."

"Well, we didn't think you would be able to get Banner to come in before the Battle of New York and you managed it."

Natasha kept her eyes upwards not to perv on the boys, but they almost immediately slid back down when Clint spoke. "I used my feminine wiles to lure him in. He couldn't say no to this." Clint leaned forward, posing with his ass out and slapped it hard enough that she heard it clear as day in another room.

Steve shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he undressed and slid into the shower. "Clearly."

Clint’s voice dropped low enough that she strained to hear. "What's your opinion, Cap?"

"Jury’s still out. She reminds me of the Natasha I knew, which was apparently the false Natasha, so that’s not much help...There's something missing. I think she's hiding something."

Clint let out a bark of laughter. "The amount of things that Natasha keeps secret is roughly the size of Mount Everest," Clint said, washing off the sweat and grime. "Maybe, she's keeping something quiet about Stark or one of the alien girls."

"Fury made some noises about Lolo. That he doesn't trust her or like her,” Steve replied.

Natasha’s lips pursed. They needed to be focused on her, not her little dictator for life. 

"You mean the fact that he accused her of being Loki?" Clint snorted, before opening his mouth and gargling the shower water and spitting it out. "Did Coulson tell you that he spoke to her?"

Steve shook his head. "What happened?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes. What did Loki do now? __

"Apparently, she’s a crazy bitch and told him to call her Loki as an in-your-face reminder that Loki’s a joke compared to her." Clint turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

Natasha let herself lean against the wall. Goddamn, stubborn, Asgardian cow. She closed her locker and quickly made her way to the next room, hoping to divert their conversation. "You boys talking about me?"

Steve fumbled with the water before managing to turn the spray off and grabbed a towel, covering himself as fast as he could. "Natasha!"

Natasha turned her eyes upwards and smirked. "I wasn't going to look. Anyways, I'm heading out for a bite, you two want to come with?"

Steve shuffled around to his locker and dried off, shooting her an apologetic look. "Sorry, I have plans."

"Hot date?" Knowing Steve, it was Peggy.

He slid on a pair of slacks over his ridiculously toned ass. "Going to go see an old friend." Definitely Peggy. 

Natasha pulled her feet up and began to tie her boots. It had been a mad dash into the room, after all. "Like, they've been your friend for a long time or they're old?" 

It was hard to remember at times that she wasn’t supposed to know Steve at all, that he had been revived right before the Battle of New York. They were technically complete strangers here. 

"Why not both," Steve muttered, a forlorn look on his face. He finished doing up his shirt and turned to Clint and Natasha. "Alright, you two, don't do anything I wouldn't."

Natasha raised a brow. "You mean look adorable while breaking all the rules?"

Steve stopped, his forehead furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Natasha quickly banished her memories from when they were taking on HYDRA and instead thought to the stuff she  _ should _ know. "I read your file. That little bit where you went against orders, snuck behind enemy lines to liberate the 107th? Pretty rebellious, if you ask me."

His cheeks flushed the smallest bit and he looked downwards. "I was just doing what was right," Steve said, as he headed for the door. “Talk to you later. I don't want to leave her waiting."

Natasha waited for a moment before turning to Clint. "So, do Laura and the kids want to see me or is the thought of Zombie Nat too scary still?"

Clint sucked on his bottom lip. "Laura wants to meet with you first before we go to the farm."

She laid back on the bench, looking up at the ceiling. "Still think I'm a fake?"

He dressed quickly, out of her line of sight. "I was saying to Rogers that you're the real deal, but that other Nat was also the real deal…Oh my god," Clint spun around suddenly, pointing at her, his eyes alight, "Season six, episode 26, Second Chances."

"...What?” She had no clue what he was talking about, which was pretty common, considering some of the nonsensical things that had come out of his mouth before. Natasha gave him a long look. "Do you have a fever again?”

"There's an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where the crew goes to a planet that Riker was on before being assigned to the Enterprise. They go down to the surface and find another Riker who has been trapped for the last six years. They find out that they were the same person up until a transporter accident and a duplicate was created,” Clint rambled quickly, “The one on the planet was trapped and lived there for six years, and the other one went off to be the second in command of the Enterprise.” He spun around and pointed at her, looking oddly excited. “What...what if both of you are the real Natasha?"

Genuine surprise hit her and her mouth fell open. "I...Maybe?" She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It might be nice to not besmirch the other Natasha, but then if he thought that about all of them, it would not go well for Loki.

"It would make more sense than a shapeshifter taking your place," Clint muttered as if he was trying to convince himself of this theory. "I bet there are some nerds out there that could look into this."

Natasha looked at the door as Rumlow and a few members of the STRIKE team came in and gave her some puzzled looks at her being in the men's locker room. "I could ask one of  _ my _ nerds." 

Clint finished with putting on his civvies, nodded at the strike team, and they left the locker room together. "I thought you only had one nerd."

She guided him towards the service elevator and hit -6, hoping Clint wouldn’t notice if she talked. "Stark is the main nerd, but Lo...ki also knows stuff. Just Asgardian stuff, probably won't be able to tell us it in English.” Natasha frowned a little, barely perceptible. Loki had been a sensitive subject around  _ her _ Clint, and she still didn’t know how this one would respond, especially since things had gone vastly different. He didn’t explode, which was a good sign. “Okay, fine,  _ Stark _ is my nerd. I need to make a quick detour and we can head out," she said, as they reached the floor. 

They headed to the data farm’s server room and she took his hand, pressing it into the hand scanner. He seemed barely aware of the fact that she had done so—evidently old habits around her were hard to break, despite a year of her being gone, and he still trusted her implicitly—even as the doors slid open. "Natasha, the other one, she would never work with Loki. She’d probably beat your Loki up just for being called Loki.”

"I saw the report. Loki brainwashed her." The Natasha here had ended up with Clint’s role during the Battle of New York, and it had gone much worse than in her reality. This Loki had Natasha and less Avengers opposing him. They had been lucky to win. She opened up a computer at one of the terminals and scrolled through the files quickly. "He used a scepter on her. This one, correct?" She tapped the monitor where a picture of Loki's glow stick was. 

Clint looked at the screen and then around the room, taking in where they were for the first time. Really, Clint. He couldn’t just follow her like a baby ducking—it was bound to get him killed one day, as she often reminded him. "Uh, yeah. Nat? Why are we here? Why are you looking this up? Wait, did you use my clearance to get in?"

"Clint, you were with me the entire time, you need to be more aware of your surroundings," she said, dismissively, "When I was reading the files on the Battle of New York, I saw the pictures of the scepter. Now, I just wanted to check something about it.” She paused a little before continuing. Natasha knew that she could trust Clint with her life, ironically enough, so she felt that telling him what she was about to say was safe. “Vision, the android who was supposed to come through with us, had a stone like this. I was wondering if we could use it to contact him." 

Clint stepped in front of her, separating her from the monitor, an incredulous look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. "Nat, glowing blue rocks exist everywhere. What doesn't exist everywhere is Fury's tolerance for bullshit. You’re freshly back from the dead and snooping. Not cool."

She gently pushed him to the side and tapped through the pages. "I was only going to look it up and ask Fury if he would help me find Vision...I think I may have found a more serious issue, though."

Clint circled around, his head resting on her shoulder. "What's up?" Then what she said seemed to have caught up with him. “Wait, wait. I hate serious issues. Aw, Nat, why’d you have to go and find it? I would have been totally fine living without knowing whatever this issue is.”

Part of her had hoped that maybe it wouldn’t have been stolen by HYDRA yet; unfortunately, her hope had been in vain. It was gone. "It's missing. It was taken out of storage six months ago and there's no sign-out information." 

"What?" Clint got in front of her again and began to type furiously, "It must have just been misplaced, some nerd probably has it."

"We need to tell Fury," Natasha said, pushing Clint out of the way again and logging out of the station. She grabbed her phone, ready to make the call that she knew she was going to have to anyways. 

They stood in the elevator, waiting for it to ascend when her phone began vibrating wildly. She expected Nick, she expected Tony, she expected Sitwell, she expected Angela Lansbury before she expected to see the name Lo Vely on the caller ID. She hoped Tony would survive what Loki was going to do to him if she was aware of the ID. Natasha answered the phone. "Hey, Lolo, what's up?"

Silence on the other end until there was an uppity, "Brown recluse, Stark is having a party at his Malibu home in a couple of weeks and you are invited. You can bring Rogers and Barton if you wish. Give me an email address I can send the invite to." Loki hung up without waiting for a reply. 

At her side, Clint snickered. "Please don’t tell me my hearing aids aren’t working right and that she really did just call you brown recluse."

"I guess I deserved that for calling her Lolo instead of Loki," Natasha muttered and dialled Nick's personal number, ready to drop the news about artifacts going missing. It was time to start collecting the stones. Tony could work on being Iron Man all he wanted, but action called to her. 

####  ##

The afternoon sun had begun shining directly onto Tony’s projects and was heating the room. A quick tap of the datapad and it was darker as the windows dimmed. It was nice, having an automated house, but he missed his home with Pepper and Morgan, the one where he did dishes and normal dad things. 

Focusing on taking JARVIS apart so he could put him back together was almost zen, in a way. Working with his hands was calming. Pity he couldn’t feel his right one. 

A screeching echoed through the penthouse, but it merely preceded the command disguised as a question of, “Stark, may I have a word with you?” 

He waited for his heart to stop racing from the assault on his ears before he made his way up the stairs, cursing Loki’s name under his breath. “You got to warn me before you use the intercom. It sets off my blood pressure off—” Tony stopped and looked Loki up and down. Loki was stretched back in the chair, his arms above his head and his ridiculously long legs sticking out from under the desk. He wore a tailored black suit, and the only thing that was out of place were the bare feet with a pair of heels that were kicked to the side. “That’s an illusion, right? The clothes, that is. I don’t have any suits that look like that, and you haven’t left this room,” Tony pointed an accusing finger, “And I can’t ask JARVIS. You waited until he was offline!”

Loki smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe I did, and yes, it is an illusion. The blouse isn’t as flattering on a flat chest, though, my arse still looks good in the skirt.” Loki lifted up his datapad. “Now, tell me why you are trying to have me killed.”

Tony’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What? How? I’m not trying to get you killed.”

Loki tapped the datapad and Tony saw the list of must-haves on it. “Foster and Selvig? I imagine she is still dating my brother at this point.” 

Stark held up his hand. “You said you would be fine if Thor showed up. You even got your little tattoo for such an occasion.” 

“And what if Foster or Selvig suspect? My brother can ignore his own suspicions, but if precious  _ Jane _ is concerned, there is a chance that he may be more serious.”

He sat down across from Loki and leaned forward, a teasing smile on his face. “I think you just don’t want to see them.”

“Well,  _ duh _ ,” Loki replied, and Tony felt like he had been punched in the gut. How the hell did Loki know modern day vernacular? There couldn’t have been that much time for him to pick up on it. “My brother knows me better than anyone else in the nine realms, Foster is someone who exists, and I may have brainwashed Selvig into being my slave during my failed invasion here. It is not an optimal situation to be had.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s not optimal… _ the thing is _ , though, we need them to contact Vision.” He tilted his head back and forth, considering what he had just said. “Well, we don’t  _ need _ them, but if I can ask them some questions about Einstein-Rosen bridges, we can move our time-table up. I get their research, instead of doing it myself.” 

Loki sighed, looking as if he were speaking to a particularly slow child. “We do not know for certain that Vision is on Titan. Perhaps he stopped existing. Did he not need the stone to be alive?”

Tony glared at Loki, who just seemed to play a reverse uno card, but multiplied by at least fifty-three, his glare being much more intensely acidic than Tony’s could ever dream of being. “Listen here, Buster Brown. One, rude, and two, it was your theory!”

“It is, however, merely a theory,” Loki replied loftily, as if he was just winding Tony up.

Tony waved a hand to emphasize his point. “He’s not on Earth. We know that, and I’m not just going to  _ abandon _ him out there.”

Loki tossed the datapad on the desk. “I am not saying that we abandon him, only that it may not be the wisest idea to have those two in the same vicinity as me. However, it is your party. Have them show up and ruin the charade. Let  _ me _ have my face peeled off by furious SHIELD agents.”

Tony’s had hand shot out, stopping the datapad’s trajectory towards the floor. “We won’t let you get your face peeled off,  _ and _ these don’t grow on trees…I take it you already have plans for the party.”

Loki’s eyelids fluttered lower, but he accepted the topic change. “Since I already started having the Malibu estate cleaned up, it will occur there. I will start compiling a list of  _ industry leaders _ to invite and you can take a look at it after.”

Tony's mind travelled to people he thought should be at parties in the future, people who didn't know him now, or yet...Smart kids, like Harley and Peter. Oh god,  _ Peter! _ "Hey, do you have the receipt for the Thai place?" 

Loki gave him a milder glare than before, spinning the chair around and opening the filing cabinet. "I refuse to do your bookkeeping, so hire someone to do that," he said, blithely. 

"Not the patron god of accountants then?" Tony said with a smile as Loki fingered his way through the files. "I thought you would love the chance to play around with numbers. Let's see how long we can go before being charged with embezzlement."

He was joking, and prayed that Loki didn’t take it as a challenge.

Loki twisted around, somehow looking like he had an extra couple vertebrae while doing so, causing Tony to blink and wonder if he was also the patron god of contortionists. Loki gave him a long look. "If you allow me access to the Stark Industries books, I can, but frankly, I am not interested in doing them when I have other things to do." Loki pulled a slip of paper out and passed it to him. "Railroad Thai." 

Tony squinted at the name. He didn't remember a place by that name in his original reality. Then again, it wasn’t like he was an expert connoisseur of New York City food. He checked the receipt; it was three blocks south of the tower. Tony thought that he would have definitely discovered this place in his reality, since it was that close to the tower and had great Thai. "Thanks. You get that list together and we can figure it out," he muttered and left the office.

Walking down the steps, Tony spotted just the person he wanted to see. "Hey, Gamora, wanna do bodyguard duty and get some food? My treat.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. If this went well, he could knock out two birds with one stone. 

“Of course it’s your treat. You people don’t use real money on this planet,” Gamora replied as she grabbed one fo the light hoodies Pepper had ordered for her. They headed for the elevator and within two minutes, they were out of the building and into the throng of New Yorkers, making their way south.

Tony enjoyed the way the crowd parted around them, but the gawking stares were a bit obnoxious. He was used to awestruck stares as Iron Man, not the shocked looks. "So many people are staring, god, it’s like they’ve never seen someone back from the dead before.."

Gamora put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and twisted him around so they were looking at each other. "Stark, they're not staring at you," she said, very slowly.

Tony took in the sight of the lovely green lady who was escorting him down the street. "Okay, I deserve that.”

Her lips twitched. "You're so pretty."

He tried not to give her the half-lidded glare that Loki liked to hit him with. "I'm glad you noticed, but I suspect you mean I'm pretty stupid."

"Just this once.” She patted his cheek and they continued their trek. “Why are we going out instead of having delivery? Not that I am complaining.”

“You don’t like going out into the hustle and bustle of the city? Stretching your legs and breathing the fresh—okay, it’s not fresh, but it’s certainly air.”

Gamora’s nostrils flared as she inhaled. “It smells like rotten things and shit…and piss. Sort of like Quill’s ship when I first met him.” 

His eyes widened in surprise. He had met Quill, and the man was a certified dumb-ass, albeit a rather handsome dumbass, and the ship that he and Nebula had been on was Quill’s and it had seemed clean...ish. “I don’t even want to know how you two ended up together.” 

“Honestly, I don’t know how it happened myself. There was dancing involved.” She smiled at him, her expression filled with the happiness of the memory. 

“Ah, he seduced you by swinging his hips. Dastardly.” It made perfect sense now. The power of the pelvic thrust was a strong one. Easy to ensnare people with it. 

“Why didn’t we take a vehicle?”

He looked at the barely moving traffic, where there was yelling and honking. It was not a pretty sight “Uh, because that’s why.” Tony stuck a thumb out at the road. Ah, New York. Looked like it never changes, no matter what universe you were in. 

“Why not a ship? We could land it on top of a building.”

Tony felt his eyebrow twitch. “Probably because there’s the tiny issue of not having them? Honestly, it would be easier to take the subway than an individual ship.” Not that he wouldn’t mind taking the Iron Man armour out to get places quickly. Tony stopped suddenly and looked at the address of the building in front of them. “Oh, here it is.” Tony pushed the door open and they stepped inside. “Two, please,” he said to the hostess, flashing her a quick smile. 

The hostess guided them to a table, barely acknowledging the oddness of serving an alien as she gave them the menus and said she would bring them waters. 

“What do you mean you don’t have ships? I know that Peter’s ship was used in your attempt to undo the deaths…” she trailed off, lost in thought, before her eyes widened at him incredulously. “Are you really not spacefaring yet?”

He repressed the urge to apologize for the failings of the human race. “We’re working on it. Give me enough time and I can probably get something together. Besides, this place hasn’t had the pleasure of me for about six years,” he said, laughing. Gamora scoffed and rolled her eyes. “The main issue is that we don’t have access to the Neural Teleportation Network. If we can get to a planet that would sell us a jump drive that would work, and it’s getting closer to that point.” Ah, despite the constant fear of death, his time aboard the  _ Benatar  _ with Nebula had been informative. 

Gamora rubbed her thumb and index finger together. “If Vision manages to get a ship, he can meet us here.”

Tony refrained from voicing his worst fear—that Vision was dead. “I have some ideas on how to create a wormhole, but I need to talk to some people about it. Initially, I was thinking of sending messages out to try and find Vision or some sort of relay system where he can get a message, but if we can end up somewhere that we could get a jump drive, I could outfit our theoretical ship with one.”

The hostess put down the water and gave them a look, since they clearly had not opened the menus, before leaving. 

Gamora slowly opened her menu. “I know a few places to get one. Stealing them is pretty easy too, although if the Shi’ar catch you using it without a permit…One time Peter forgot to renew and they showed up ready to take him to prison.”

“How’d he get out of it?” Tony asked flipping through the menu, while surreptitiously peering into the kitchen. He thought he may have spotted Peter in the back. 

“They saw Groot and thought he was the cutest thing ever and refused to take one of his providers away. And maybe there was a bribe involved.” Gamora closed the menu just as slowly as she had opened it. “Just order me that noodle dish we had last time.”

“Phad Thai…We should get a Groot. I saw him stab some people during the fight against Thanos. Cute, little, tree thing,” he muttered, looking at the menu. 

“If we manage to contact the Guardians, we can have  _ the _ Groot.” 

The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence. Tony appreciated the way Gamora didn’t always want to have a conversation, but when she did, it was meaningful. The thought that maybe she only did that because Thanos punished frivolous discussion curled in his head like fumes from twelve molar hydrochloric acid. He hoped that wasn’t the case…It wasn’t like he could ask her about her horrible abusive father who murdered her for a stupid, goddamn rock. 

The waitress eventually returned and took their or d ers—Pad Thai for Gamora, and  Gaeng Keow Wan Kai for Tony —finally pausing to look at Gamora. “I take it we need to be prepared for the convention crowd? Are they down at the Hyatt again?”

Gamora’s expression remained blank, likely attempting to process what was said to her. 

Tony snorted and propped his head up on his left hand, repressing the wince. “She’s not a cosplayer. She’s actually green.”

The waitress gave him a surprised look. “What? Like a She-Hulk?”

He let out a little huff of laughter, trying not to look at the bewildered Gamora. “Exactly like a She-Hulk.”

“She’s not as buff as the Hulk.” 

Tony nodded morosely, looking up sadly at the waitress. “It’s so sad. But she can still beat up more people than I can,” he turned slightly to wink at Gamora, before looking at the waitress again, “Hey, I did a delivery order a bit ago and left a big tip.” The waitress looked unimpressed. Okay, valid. “Anyways, the kid who delivered it, I just wanted to thank him. I think his name was Peter? Is he in?”

She flipped her notepad closed. “I can see if he is.” And like that, she was gone into the kitchen.

Gamora slowly turned to look at Tony. “I feel like my translator broke, and yet I still recognized all the words that were being spoken.”

He gave her a small smile and began to explain what cosplay was and what conventions were. The concept of dressing up for fun was something she seemed to find unfamiliar. He couldn’t wait for Hallowe’en suddenly. They would be able to do an amazing tinman and wickedly, beautiful witch of the west. Natasha could be Glinda. Loki could be Dorothy. 

“Uh, Mister Stark? You asked for me?” came a small voice. Peter stood there, looking tiny and mousy, two years younger than when Tony had initially met him. He must have hit a growth spurt pretty early on, because he didn’t seem that much shorter compared to the Peter that Tony knew. 

He turned and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, I just wanted to thank you for that good job you did. You showed up on a pretty wild day and you dealt with it like a champ.”

Peter flushed and looked down. “It wasn’t a problem—I was just doing my job.” 

“Well, you’re really good at it, not many people can deal with ol’ Pine-Sol breath when she’s in top form, if you know what I mean.” Peter glanced around the room looking to see if maybe Loki was around. “Oh, this is Gamora by the way. She’s an alien like Lo.”

“I can see that, Mister Stark,” he bit his bottom lip, “Miss Lo seemed pretty nice, just a bit weird. It looked like she stepped on your foot at the press conference.”

“Her foot slipped. Surprised you watched it.”

Peter looked at him, adorably confused. “It looked like she sidestepped a full foot and then stomped on your foot. It was all over Youtube, especially the part with the foot stomp.”

“Trust me, it was a slip…”

Peter gave him a dubious—but still adorably nervous— look that said something along the lines of ‘keep telling yourself that,’ before he pointed his thumb towards the kitchen. “Well, uh, I have to head back to the kitchen. It was nice to meet you again, Mister Stark!”

“Nice meeting you too, Peter.” Tony turned back to Gamora, not giving Peter much time to get out of earshot. “So, I forgot to tell you that Lo is looking for a bookkeeper. She refuses to keep track of that. Can you believe the gall? I know she can do numbers. You should have seen what she did to the legal paperwork I gave her, I can only imagine what she can do with the bookkeeping. Oh god, the  _ numbers. _ ”

Gamora’s eyebrows were nearly in her hairline. “I don’t even know what a bookkeeper is.”

“You don’t have accountants in space?” Tony asked, watching Peter’s reflection in a mirror behind Gamora. The kid who would be Spider-Man was immobile and listening. He needed to work on his conspicuousness, though.  

“We don’t need them? We can pay our fines for entering areas?” Her voice was still incredulous about the conversation they were having. 

Peter was walking backwards until he was back in front of Tony. “I-I know a bookkeeper who could do with another client,” he said, barely pausing to breathe.

Tony leaned back, as if he didn’t one hundred percent know that already. “Really?” He pulled out a card and pen, quickly wrote his number down, and passed it to Peter. “Have them give me a call. That’s my personal number, not Lo’s so they won’t get a rude reception.” 

Peter nodded vigorously, pocketing the card. “Thank you, Mister Stark!” He practically ran to the kitchen. 

Tony wouldn’t be too surprised if he was texting May right now about it. He didn’t know their full situation, but he did know that living in Queens was expensive and May Parker probably wouldn’t be able to say no to another client. He had meant to look up the Parkers earlier and had gotten distracted with taking JARVIS apart while searching for bugs.  

Gamora looked like a cat who had just watched a bug vanish in front of her and couldn’t comprehend the event. “What just happened?”

“Did you see a kid dressed up like a big spider while you were in Soul Stone?”

“What’s a...spider?”

Oh, geez. “Did you see someone in a red, blue, and gold suit with four robotic arms on it?”

Gamora nodded in realization, her eyes widening a fraction.. “That was him? He’s so tiny. I could crush him by accident.” 

“Please don’t. He’s a good kid.”

 

##

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to RenderedReversed to helping me speak computer code. (Go read her stuff she’s amazing and I love her)


	8. Bloodstains Can Be Cleaned With Hydrogen Peroxide

Tony sat in his workshop, carefully unwrapping DUM-E and U from their plastic wrap prison. Poor babies. He knew Pepper wouldn’t have willingly let anyone treat them like this, so that meant Stane had probably hired the cheapest packing company to mummify his bots after Pepper left. 

Any proprietary Stark Industries tech had been yanked out of his workshop ages ago, leaving the workshop riddled with blank spots where tables and computers had been. A part of him, a very large part of him, was beyond pissed, because those were  _ his _ . He had created them and not everything he made was inherently part of Stark Industries. If he had to call up Stane to get them back, he would. 

Although, a different part of him much preferred the idea of setting Loki on Stane. Thor had told Tony enough stories about Loki that he knew for a fact that Loki could get Stane bent over the table. 

That was something he would pay to see. 

Tony set the now free DUM-E and U aside, watching them fondly. His homecoming to Malibu had been bittersweet, but seeing the two bots again made it feel like some of his worries were taking a break. Afterall, the last time he had been here was to say goodbye after Killian’s attack. He had missed it; this place had been his home for years and while he had gotten over its loss, being able to come in and touch everything, to have a form of it be his again was nice. It was, really, one of the better things he had been reminded of since coming to this world. 

Sure, there wasn’t a vault of Iron Man suits beneath him, but that could change, Tony thought, before he dragged his thoughts back from the blueprints and sighed. All those previous versions were a moot point since he had created the nanotech. 

A sudden screech upstairs made him jump and remember that the DJ was still setting up. It was soon followed by the thumping of a strong bassline. Tony huffed a laugh. Loki really had gone all out for this damn party.  

“Tony, you got a moment?” 

He didn’t move—being surprised by Natasha meant she won, and he wasn’t about that life. Tony wondered how she had snuck up behind him when he was looking at the only open entrance. “For you? I can spare one. What’s up?” he said, spinning around, and put the box cutter on the table and smiled at the assassin-turned-spy. Looked like she had gotten in touch with a stylist to fix up the hack and slash job she had done on her hair into a short cut that looked a tad like Danvers’ had when he had last seen her. 

She looked around the workshop, her fingertips brushing across the edges of the room where bugs could be hidden. 

“I already checked. It’s secure. JARVIS is offline here as well.”

“HYDRA has the scepter already,” she said, going straight to the point. 

He bit back the urge to put his head in his hands. “That’s not too surprising. Strucker?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I have to lead Fury to it without alerting HYDRA at this point.” Natasha began wandering around the workshop, lightly touching things, leaving light streaks where her fingers had brushed it in the dust.

He spun the sheathed box cutter on the table. “What if we went there ourselves?” 

Natasha sat down across from him and stopped it from spinning with a dainty finger. “Last time we did that, we had Thor, Cap, Clint and the Hulk on our side. You also had your suits. We’re not in a position to make a major play like that.”

“You doubting the power of Team Soul Squad?”

She raised a brow. “Yes. Loki is strong and fast, but not the powerhouse Thor is, roughly the same for Gamora and myself, and, like I said, you don’t have your suits, and they are very helpful.”

Tony sighed, kicking his legs out. “I’m working on the suits issue. I need to invent the nanotechnology here, and in order to do that I need to invent the stuff to invent it.”

Natasha chuckled, shooting him a look through her eyelashes, completely unsympathetic. “Sounds like a bitch.” He knew she wasn’t going to cut him any slack, because she knew he could do it. Having Natasha believe in you was somewhat terrifying at times. 

“It is. I’ve drawn up some of the plans, but with JARVIS offline since he might be filled with spyware, it’ll be harder,” Tony shook his head, “Not going to lie...I sort of hate this place.” He avoided looking at her, licking his suddenly dry lips. Tony knew that she understood that he meant this world, not this house.

There was a long moment of silence before Natasha spoke, each word chosen carefully but still blunt in typical Natasha-fashion. “Can you handle this? You’re not going to go do something reckless, are you?”

Tony snorted and looked up at her disparagingly. “If that is your way of asking me if I’m going to kill myself, the answer is no. I want to make my suit, get the stones on Earth, and then just go and get the ones in space and end Thanos before he can start. After that? Well, we’ll have the entire universe at our disposal.”

“We’ll do it. No deaths this time around,” she promised, patting the top of his hand. 

He gave her a halfhearted smile that he didn’t even feel an eighth of. “We can only hope.”

The click of heels echoed down the stairs and Natasha and Tony turned to see Pepper and Loki descending to the workshop. “—lly should threaten to file a cease and desist. You don’t want them to get emboldened by complacency.” Pepper’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs as she and Loki came down to the workshop. Apparently, Pepper wasn’t able to stop taking care of her dear old ex-boss, to the point of arriving early to a party she hadn’t even planned. 

“I do not think I want to, though.” 

Natasha let out a snort at that. 

Pepper stopped at the top of the landing and was looking down at Loki confusedly. “What? Why not?”

Loki glanced behind her as she brushed past Pepper. “Because those reporters can run their tongues and it will have no effect on me.”

Tony stared at the landing. Public opinion, evidently, meant nothing to Loki. Probably a consequence of being royalty. 

“Look… _ Loki _ , I will send you the contact information for an experienced PR person. I think you could use the help on it. One personal assistant to another.”

Oh, a Pepper burn. Subtle, but brutal. 

Tony rolled over so he was more in sight of the two women. “Are Loki and I dating?”

“According to TMZ, you are.” Pepper walked away from Loki and towards Tony and gave him a small hug. She stood up and looked at Natasha. “You— Aren’t you supposed to be dead? You fought in the Battle of New York, right?”

Natasha’s face twitched into a grimace. “Someone who looked like me did. Natasha Romanov, Agent of SHIELD,” she and Pepper shook hands, “Tony and I escaped Sakaar together with the trouble twins and Vision.”

Tony chuckled. Trouble twins? “Twins? With you, it’s more like trouble triplets.” 

She turned her head to him, rolling her eyes. "You sound like someone who wants to get tasered."

"Oh, the pain of a bit of electricity hitting me. The worst thing in the world," he held his hand to his forehead as if he was about to fall into a faint, "Give me your little zappies."

Pepper watched them with barely concealed concern. She clearly thought they were all lunatics. They probably were.

"Given the poor shape your body is in, I would recommend against that. That elixir does not grow on trees," Loki said, clinically lifting Tony's arm and pushing up his shirt sleeve so she could better look at his injuries. Tony couldn't feel the tips of her fingers as she traced the raised burns from where the stones had etched their legacy into him. However, he did feel his left arm develop goosebumps. "I should do another application soon."

"I thought it doesn't grow on trees?" Tony replied with a smile and wink. 

Loki narrowed her eyes and dropped his hand, letting it fall to the table with a heavy thud. His arm flopped limply and there was a bit of jogging sensation in his shoulder. "I think I felt that in my shoulder. Finally getting feeling back."

Loki frowned and began to undo Tony's shirt, her hands moving to his chest and touching his shoulder. "Where?"

Tony's mouth went dry as her face approached his, her puckered brows, and pursed lips less than six inches away. "Uh—near the shoulder joint."

The room was quiet. Tony could see Pepper and Natasha through the veil of Loki's cascading hair, their eyes transfixed on Loki's hands. 

"Your nerves haven't healed. You must have just felt pressure somewhere else."

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and looked Loki in the eye, brown to green. "I’m sure I felt something, though."

She pulled away. "You did not," Loki said, holding up her hand, a bloody box cutter between her fingers, with Tony’s blood dripping down the blade.

He felt like his head was going to spin off at how quickly he looked down at his brand new half inch wound that was openly bleeding. "Loki!  _ What the hell? _ "

"I had to test," she replied as she grabbed a ream of paper towels and pressed it against the wound, preventing the blood from staining his shirt. "If we can manage to stretch the applications out over a year, you might get feeling back in your arm." Loki waved her hand in a curl and the bottle of magic lotion appeared between her fingers. "Just a bit, for now," she said, rubbing the smallest drop into the wound she had created. 

Tony’s mind was spinning with hypotheses and ideas as he watched the wound immediately close. "If you give me a sample of that, I might be able to synthesize it."

Loki waved her hand again and it was gone. "Unlikely. It is beyond even your mind. Your 'nanotech' would likely be sufficient enough to close wounds. There are also other options in space."

Tony recalled the spray that Nebula had applied to the stab wound Thanos had given him with his own damn suit. He barely remembered the infection that almost killed him, but he did know that if Nebula hadn’t been with him, he would have died on Titan, not even making it into space. 

Pepper scoffed, drawing their attention. “Well, it’s not like you’re going to go to space again.”

Tony wouldn’t say he had a deer-in-headlights look on his face, and the other two certainly didn’t, but for some unexplained reason Pepper put her hands on her hips and shouted, “You’re not going to space,  _ right? _ ”

He was pretty sure Loki could see the sizzling air in front of Pepper’s laser-beam glare, based on the amused eyebrow that was being raised. “I have to go change and supervise the party,” Loki said and headed upstairs so quickly that he was surprised she didn’t twist an ankle. 

“Sorry, guys, I said I’d help her out. Bye.” Natasha gave Tony the smallest of smiles and vanished up as well. 

“Judases!” His gaze slowly drifted over to Pepper who didn’t actually look angry. Instead, she just looked concerned, small wrinkles around the corners of her eyes. 

“Tony? What’s going on?”

He hadn’t seen this Pepper in a long time. The one who was concerned, who was afraid to push boundaries, the one who just may have been in love with her boss but was afraid to take that step. This was a Pepper that knew him as Tony Stark, the Merchant of Death. 

She didn’t know him as Iron Man, she hadn’t fought with him about his obsession with his suits, hadn’t seen him near death too many times to count, hadn’t held him when he had woken up from nightmares filled with the terrors of space. This Pepper was just a concerned friend who was worried about her former boss. 

She was not his wife. 

Tony crossed his legs and turned a bit so he was facing the table a bit more and Pepper a bit less. "If Vision is stuck out there, we have to go get him. Also, space travel!" he said faux-cheerfully. Fake it ‘till you make it, after all. "Can't say no to interstellar travel, can you? Broadening humanity's boundaries into the unknown and all that."

Pepper sat down at the base of the stairs, her elbows resting on her knees, looking up at him through her bangs. "I don't understand. You just got back...Won't Vision be able to make his way here on his own? Isn't there some other way?"

"...We're not going to leave him behind. If we have to go up there, we will." Tony wet his lips. Back before the world had tossed him into the blender that was his life as Iron Man, he had dreamed of going to the stars. Jarvis and his mom occasionally took him out to look at the stars when Howard worked late and told him the stories of the moon landings, the satellites, and the legends of the constellations. It had amazed him and fueled his desire to someday be among the stars, to get out and explore those unknown depths. Earth had been mapped, it was known, but space was a new frontier that a young Tony could seek out. 

And then real life came crashing down. His father had seen Tony's natural aptitude for science and pressed him even further, harder to study, to succeed and go even further than he could and Tony's thoughts and dreams travelled away from the stars and his focus was Earth, what was on Earth, and the few things on it that he could protect. 

His fingers skittered around the table for a second, knocking against the bloody box cutter, sending it spinning out. He felt a bit disconnected from his body, his thoughts rushing around faster and faster. 

Tony had almost died the first time he tried to reach the stars, the Mark II freezing around his body, leaving him captive as he plummeted towards the ground. The second time was just as bad, a nuclear missile on his back, a near-limitless army in before him and the heavy knowledge that it was likely a one-way trip. Luck was what had saved him. 

His dream of exploring space had truly died that day. It was vast, it was filled with the unknown, and it haunted his waking dreams for the rest of his entire life. All he wanted was to protect those he loved and his planet and he had failed. Thanos had beaten them and snapped away half of all life, leaving Tony nearly dead on a dead planet. 

They may have brought the snapped back, they may have beaten Thanos, but there were still so many who were dead. People who had been on planes, in cars, hospitals that had suddenly lost doctors in the middle of surgeries, people who had killed themselves when they had lost their families.

Blood pounded in his ears. If he had lost Pepper...if she had been one of those snapped with no hope of bringing her back...Tony may have been one of the latter. 

"Tony?" Pepper's voice came through a fog, "Tony, you're shaking." It seemed like she had teleported in front of him, her hand resting on his arm. 

His jaw shook and he pulled away from her, almost running around to the other side of the table. Her being so close, so concerned for  _ him. _ All he wanted to do was hold her, kiss her, and tell her it would be okay. That he loved her. 

But this wasn't his Pepper. She wasn’t her, she wasn’t her,  _ she wasn’t her _ . 

"Tony? Tony, what's going on? Are they making you do something you don't want to do?" she pressed.

"Pepper, stop," he whispered. 

She came around the table and took his wrists. "What is going on? You don't have to go to space! You don't have to do anything—"

"Pepper. Stop,” he said firmly, still not making eye contact with her.

"No! You're scaring me!"

Tony yanked his hands away from her and backed up, knocking over a tray. "You don’t know me, I don't have to explain myself to you!” He looked down at his clenched fists, the heavily scarred right and the one with invisible pains that still plagued him. “That will be all Miss Potts," he whispered and practically ran to the server room, ignoring her horrified expression as he locked the door. 

Tony stumbled into the back of the room, bumping against the server racks and collapsed against the cold metal of the door, the chill putting him into a fugue state as he slid down it and onto the floor. 

 "Tony," he heard faintly through the door, "I don't know what's going on, but something’s wrong. Please get some help." 

He remained sitting up against the door, staring at the flickering lights of the server room until he heard her sigh and walk away. Tony slid down further, laying on the chilled floor, tears welling in his eyes.

There was nothing more in the world that Tony wanted except to fall into Pepper's arms and tell her everything, but this was not his Pepper. He needed to stay away from  _ this _ Pepper, he didn’t need to remember the past. Everything he had lost… 

He had lost everything. 

His mind drifted to the memory of an article he had read, written after he had escaped Afghanistan. It had lauded Tony’s determination to work against unbeatable odds, how he never gave up, his bravery in the face of death and defeat. He snorted. Things were vastly different now. All he wanted to do now was to lay on the ground and freeze to death. Some hero he was.

###  ##

Natasha followed Loki as she slid into one of the bedrooms. “Was that bad of us?”

Loki frowned and closed the door behind Natasha, locking it as she did so. “Why do you say that?” she replied, giving Natasha a sly grin. “ Regardless, he has to fight his own battles.” She pulled out a fitted black cocktail dress with billowing lace sleeves. “Are the blond bimbos downstairs?”

Natasha blinked and tried not to laugh. “Steve and Clint?”

“I know you possess above average hearing,” Loki replied as she stripped down completely. 

“Really?” Natasha muttered and turned away, allowing the goddess a hint of privacy, “You know, in all my time around Thor, he never just got naked like this.”

“It is an honor to wait on me, spider,” Loki said sliding on stockings and a garter belt. “Well? Are they here?”

“They’re walking around outside, since the party hasn’t started and Steve can be an awkward duck,” Natasha glanced at Loki, who had pulled on the dress, “That seems a little…vintage for you.”

“Did you, perhaps, expect me to wear a green dress with scales and a fur stole? How gauche,” Loki approached Natasha and spun around, “Zip it up.” 

Natasha stared for a moment at Loki’s bare back, the way she held her hair up to avoid it getting caught, the complete nonchalance of it. Few people would willingly turn their back on Natasha Romanov, much less a former enemy, but here was Loki growing more impatient at the hold-up. She zipped the goddess up taking a peek at the label. “This dress must be seventy years old.”

“I like the design,” Loki strode to the mirror and with little flicks of the wrist her hair transformed into curls and waves, smooth and beautiful, “And I am even centuries older than that.”

Natasha watched Loki, the two women making eye contact in the mirror as Loki continued her preparations. 1940’s dress, hairstyle, and now, makeup, “Are you trying to get Steve’s attention?”

Loki finished applying her lipstick and turned to her, “Will it throw him off enough that he won’t notice that I’m me?”

“He will certainly notice you. He’s not dumb.”

“I never said he was. This is just to throw off his game a little. Thor would also not expect me to dress like this.”

Natasha’s mind paused. “Thor is coming?”

Loki shrugged. “Potentially. Stark had me invite Jane Foster and Eric Selvig, and Thor is still dating her at this point, so he might make an appearance.”

“...How do you feel about that?”

Loki held up her arm that bore the tattoo of the Valkyries. “I have my cover story, I have my new look, I have my considerable talent at deception, and I have my intrinsic knowledge of how my brother thinks. I have been fooling him for longer than you’ve been alive.”

Natasha sat down on the bed and kicked back. “Thor isn’t dumb either.”

Loki attached her earrings. “I am well aware of this,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

"Are you? Despite your efforts, you still look like you and for some inane reason, you're going by your actual name instead of the perfectly acceptable one that Stark made up, which has Fury's hackles up. I heard that little speech you did for Coulson. I'm still surprised he didn't try to bring you in. Everyone else has seen through you, and you expect Thor to as well?"

Loki deigned to glance back at her. "Are you done?" 

"We are this close to you screwing this all up,” Romanov held her thumb and index finger a centimeter apart, “You're arrogant and careless and we're all going to suffer because of it. This is our second chance, and I don't want you to ruin it for us." She dropped her hand and gave Loki a dour look. "I'm being honest with you right now, and trust me, as a spy, it's a pretty difficult thing to do. So tell me, deity to spy, what is your deal? Do you want to be caught? Is there something subconscious going on here?"

Loki paused, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and looked at her feet. Romanov certainly was talented at being able to see through her, and she was smart enough to see that maybe, a part of her, wanted to be seen through. 

Loki thought about all the times she had lied, sown chaos and confusion, and how it never seemed finished, a dangling story—until she was caught. Being caught was never good, always leading to punishment. The relief at the end was always worth it, though, the small assurance that everything would cycle back to the beginning, that she would continue playing her role as needed. Sometimes it was fun, a harmless little prank and the shocked laughs of Thor and his friends at the hilarity of it… and sometimes there was the pain of a needle piercing her lips or she was hanging off a bridge and letting go. 

"...I let you win. I don’t want Midgard. I set myself up for failure."

Natasha shifted and sat next to Loki on the bed, hip-to-hip. "I always suspected. You have a brain, so why not just set up the Tesseract in some unpopulated area and let the Chitauri in? You gave us a chance to win...You gonna tell me why?"

Loki shook her head, trying to clear the memories of Thanos out of her head. "No." She looked at the hairbrush on the dresser and took in all the details of it like Stark had told her to. “Please leave. I must finish preparing.”

Romanov got up off the bed and stood near Loki, in front of the bedroom door. “This…little get together will be an opportunity for Stark to make connections outside of Stane and reestablish himself and for us to get a footing. I know you have all been working on it, but right now he’s a footnote. He’s not  _ the _ Tony Stark. Not the one who saved the universe…” She left it hanging, trying to prompt Loki into understanding her point.

Loki let out an annoyed sigh. “Can you please leave?”

Romanov opened the door and looked back, “Don’t ruin this.”

Loki bit down the urge to push Romanov out the door and down the stairs with a burst of magic. “Go collect your soldier boys,” she snapped. 

Romanov left. 

It took her some time to get the redness out of her cheeks—no need for illusions; all she needed was to turn her emotions off. 

It wasn’t long before she descended the stairs and began to make her rounds. How many events had she helped Frigga with on Asgard? Well, not that many, since she had always tried her hardest to wiggle her way out, but there had been enough diplomatic events over the centuries that she had been involved with. It was muscle memory by now. 

A talk with the DJ, checking in with the bartender, making sure the caterers were ready, speaking to security, briefing the servers and maintenance about their roles through the night. By the time Loki had finished and could actually stop to enjoy the product of her labor, her conversation with Romanov was stomped down, crushed and shoved into a dark, cluttered corner of her mind where it belonged. 

There was a fair turn out already, with even more that were likely on their way in. Stane had yet to make an appearance, Justin Hammer was on his way inside, Janet Van Dyne was talking to Pepper Potts in a corner, Darren Cross was floating around the bar. Loki duly ignored Romanov, Rogers and Barton. Banner or any of the other scientists had not yet arrived. She knew that Selvig and Foster would be coming; they had responded to the RSVP, and Stark had paid for their plane tickets. 

Banner was a bit of a mystery. He had not kept in contact with SHIELD or the Avengers, like he had in their original reality. It seemed that Stark was the glue that kept Banner stuck.

Loki walked through the room, pausing to speak to a few people here and there, when Barton stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Hello Loki.” 

Ah, there was already an accusation in his tone. Delightful. She missed her obedient little hawk. “Agent Barton. An honour to meet you. Romanov speaks highly of you.” Loki held out her hand. 

It was a tense moment, the two of them looking at each other before Romanov elbowed Barton and he took her hand, squeezing it tightly as if he could hurt her with his weak human flesh mittens. 

“Natasha has barely said anything about you,” he replied, dropping his hand. 

“Silence is an admirable quality in a spy,” she said benignly and looked around Barton, extending a hand and a cordial smile to the man behind him. “You must be Captain America.”

Roger’s smiled at her and shook her hand gently, his expression was kindly but he seemed uncertain, likely because of her choice of dress and makeup. Good. “Captain Rogers or Steve works a bit better...So, you’re Loki,” his face twitched a bit, “I have to say I preferred the name I heard on the television.”

She gave him a faint smile. “That seems to be an ongoing theme, but it is what it is. If it is more preferable to you, you can simply call me Lo, but I see no reason to ruin a name because of one person’s actions. It is a perfectly acceptable name where I am from.”

“Which is Asgard, right?” Rogers asked, genuinely interested. 

“I was raised on Asgard, yes, but I am from a different realm. It is why I know the magic of the Vanir—my mother was a talented witch and passed her knowledge onto me.” Her mind flashed to Frigga guiding her how to cast illusions, how to conjure and heal. Those had been some of the best days in her young life. 

“So, you’re a witch?” Barton squinted at her. 

“Why? Do you think I dress like one?” Loki shot back, a smile on her lips as she remembered Thor and her bickering outside of Odin’s Midgardian home, one of the last good days in her life. Minus the whole Hela thing.

“Can you, like, mind control people?” Barton’s gaze was on Natasha. He must be afraid of being controlled again. Understandable, really, but luckily for him, she had no intention of playing with his thoughts again and fought the urge to verbally mess with him. 

Romanov was correct that she was self-destructive at times, but holding all the cards never failed to be entertaining. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“No.”

“Then where lies the point in my answering?” She had grown bored of this line of inquiry. Loki looked past the men and to the entrance where even more people had started to come in. “You must excuse me. I have to go and fetch Stark or he will be tinkering the entire time.” She disengaged herself from the group and made her way into the workshop. Potts had come up nearly an hour ago, but the room was abandoned. It looked the same as when she had left.

“Stark?” Loki looked around, “...Tony?” 

She opened all of the doors in the workshop and ended up in front of the locked server room. Loki grasped the handle tightly and twisted, breaking the handle under her grasp, but the door opened nonetheless. 

Loki’s eyes widened. Stark was sat up against the far wall, his eyes glazed and his right side in a pool of blood. 

“Stark?” Loki rushed into the room, the smell of copper filling her nose as she approached. Her mind was a flurry of panic. Loki knew that Pott’ would never harm Stark in this way…had he tried to take his life? 

“Hmm? Oh, it’s  _ you,”  _ Stark sneered rather weakly. 

Loki ignored his tone and pulled his right arm up, where there was a large gash across his forearm. “What the Hel happened?”

Stark had not looked away from her, his gaze unfocused as if she was not actually there. “You were right. You were so right.”

“Oh?” She quickly conjured a tourniquet and bandages and began to tie the bleeding limb off. The cut didn’t seem to have hit any arteries and had mostly clotted, but it was not worth the risk. 

“When you invaded and offered us a world free of freedom. Do you remember that?” he slurred. 

She tightened her grip on his arm. “Of course. Why do you say that?”

“When…when we were dead we were given a choice to stay dead or come here. It was freedom, and I chose the wrong thing. I chose to come back and suffer like an idiot.”

Loki cleaned the wound, her mind reeling. She had not expected Stark to be upset about his choice. She had thought that Stark would have been reveling in this second chance.. “You wish you had not been given the option to come back.” 

Tony’s head lolled against his shoulder. “My wife is marrying my best friend and I can’t hate them for it. She’ll be happier with him than she ever was with me,” he whispered harshly, “I wish I didn’t know any of this, that I was just a corpse rotting in the ground like I thou—”

She roughly grabbed his face and turned it to face her.

“Shut up and stop being selfish,” Loki hissed as she wiped his arm clean, “You don’t get to have Potts as your bride, but at least she is happy! You know she is with someone who will care for and respect her, but you are upset that she is not yours? Did you really come back and think that she would throw herself into your arms? You are not the man that Virginia Potts fell in love with and she is not the one you married. Everyone here remembers the Tony Stark of six years ago, and you are not him. You are a vastly different person and these people may as well be strangers to you,” Loki leaned in closer, wanting to make sure she still had his attention, “You expected that you could just start your life over again, but that is very much not the case, and it is a disservice to the woman and child you purportedly left behind. Or do they not matter anymore? Are you trying to replace them? Will you so easily forget about them? You are not a reality-wandering hermit crab, wandering from reality to reality and inserting yourself into a new life.” 

She yanked his arm up, showing him the bloodied wound. “If you end up killing yourself because you are in mourning or through carelessness, which this is definitely carelessness, our entire plan will fall apart and you will have doomed this reality.” Then Loki dropped the arm, letting it thud to the ground. Stark’s eyes followed it and some of the fog seemed to have cleared.. More gently, she said, “You have no feeling in this arm, do you even know you have been bleeding?”

Stark’s eyes finally focused all the way on the wound in surprise. He had not known. She doubted he even realized that she was bandaging his arm. 

“Anyways,” Loki tightened the bandage, pettily wanting to see him wince, but he did no such thing, “I will not allow you to die. I may be a monster, but I will not deny the others their second chance.” She tried not to think of Romanov’s little speech. “You are not alone in hating this world, in regretting taking the offer, but the other three deserve to have a life.” Quietly, she said, “You willingly sacrificed yourself for the greater good, and so did Romanov. Gamora, Vision, and myself were  _ murdered _ . Get over yourself and start seeing this world for what it is. Utterly alien.” She dropped his arm again. “You have ten minutes to get upstairs and be dressed in clean clothes. If you fail to complete such a simple task, you will regret letting me into your wardrobe.” 

Stark’s lips curled into a grimace and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “Thor told me how you died. That you pulled a little knife on Thanos. You’re going to tell me that you didn’t commit suicide by proxy? You had a choice.” 

Heat rushed through Loki’s body and she clenched her fists tight enough that her nails bit into the palms of her hands. “Do not speak of things you know nothing of.” She stood up and left the workshop to head upstairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We just wanted to thank all our readers and commenters. You guys are the best and we love seeing your feedback. Kiss Kiss. 


	9. Good Questions. Not Necessarily Good Answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Discussion of suicide.

The party surged and no one paid Loki much attention as she attempted to escape into the kitchen to clean off Tony’s blood and, hopefully, regain her composure. Why had she not chosen a path that did not go straight through the party?

“Loki!” Stane’s voice rang through the room, halting her progress and she watched his tall frame looming above the crowd. He quickly wove his way through the masses to her. 

“You’ve been dodging my calls—” He caught sight of her hands and stared for a moment. “Is that blood?” 

She glanced down at the drying blood. “Stark caught his arm on something and needed it cleaned.” There were long, unsubtle looks from the surrounding people who had turned to look—the Avengers. Gamora was also looking at her, concern etched into her face. Loki seized the opportunity. “Gamora, will you be a dear and go fetch him? He will need to change his shirt.” 

Gamora hit Loki with a look before nodding and heading downstairs. She tried not to note that Natasha and Rogers followed her. Probably suspecting that she murdered Stark and that they would find his flayed corpse. As if. She would never be such a fool as to leave  _ evidence. _

“I will be a moment, Mister Stane,” Loki murmured, before heading to the kitchen and washing her hands. She did her best to ignore Stane, who had followed her despite her words, his presence overwhelming as he stood next to her, watching her wash Stark’s blood away.

"I said I would be a moment, you did not have to follow me," Loki chided as she began to dry off her hands.

"Now, we both know that's not true,” he took her hands and a paper towel and pressed them under her fingernails, cleaning the blood that had gotten under her french manicure, “I've stopped by the tower only to be told that you and Tony were out. I've made numerous calls to only get a voicemail that sounds like it was freshly recorded each time as if someone was answering it and pretending to be a recording." He paused and gave her a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m not taking it personally, but I am forced to wonder why you're ducking my calls."

"Do you have anything of note to say outside of asking about Stark? He is here, you may talk to him directly." She pulled her hands away. Even though Loki appeared calm, her interaction with Stark had upset her, making her more likely to react strongly to a bit of pressure. All she wanted to do was bury her rage under fake niceties and a faker smile, hopefully taking her mind off Stark. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have people to greet." Loki turned to walk away, when Stane grabbed her upper arm, his hand gripping her bicep tightly. If she had been Midgardian it would have hurt. As it was, it felt like a fly. 

"Miss Loki," he said softly yet firmly, "I don't want to talk to Tony. I want to talk to  _ you _ . I know what Tony is good at—creating and causing messes, and I'm just concerned for the ladies in his life."

Loki stared down at the hand on her arm until he released it, before shifting her footing and leaning against the counter. She gave him an appraising look—not that there was much to appraise; she knew him, or she knew men like him—ones that would smile at your wedding and then continue smiling while stabbing you in the back, sometimes quite literally. Took one to know one. "Gamora and I have it handled.” Loki smiled softly at him, every inch of her face carefully calculated. She had a great deal of experience here, and it was a relief to be doing what she did best: lie. “We have known Stark for quite some time, I do believe we can handle his...dramatics."

"That's good, that's good," Stane said while nodding, "I still want to have dinner with you, so we may discuss some logistics between us and Tony. You're representing Tony Stark, the man, and I am representing his business. It would be best if we worked together." His hand returned to her arm again, a much gentler touch than before—almost...sexual. 

_ Oh.  _ Loki's mind raced. She could use this; it would be no difficulty. Simply continue on the road she had walked with the Grandmaster— be some pretty young thing on his arm in public, and then she could pull his strings in private. He would be so much easier to manipulate than the Grandmaster as well; a mere mortal could never compare to the unpredictability of that mad lunatic. But did she want to fall back on old habits? This was her chance to change...and who was she, if not a catalyst for change? Could the catalyst change? Loki didn’t know the answer to that. She did, however, know that she could not completely reject Stane, what with his power in this world. A medium would have to be found. 

Until Stark killed him. 

"I will have to check my calendar, but that could be arranged," she flicked her hand and a card appeared between her fingers, "It is easier to contact me through electronic letter."

Stane took the card, "I will keep that in mind." He pocketed it and looked at the entrance where more guests were pouring in. "I must compliment you on how the party is turning out. I think I'll go and enjoy it."

“Why, thank you.” She smiled at him and swept out the kitchen. 

##

Tony leaned against the wall and watched as everyone mingled about, industry leaders talking to other industry leaders. Gamora had Loki off to the side, probably telling her that she had brought him upstairs and he seemed fine. He was  _ fine _ . That little, tiny, miniscule thing that happened down in the server room was clearly just a moment of temporary insanity. He definitely wasn’t hating his current life and he definitely wasn’t pretending to be happy for everyone here. Definitely not pretending for himself either. Where was the alcohol?

Tony snagged a glass off the tray of a passing server and ignored the raised eyebrow from Loki as he tossed the drink back. 

Was this going to be a downward spiral like the last big party that had taken place here? At least Natasha wasn’t egging him on this time. He saw her beside Clint and Steve, the three of them talking to Coulson. Good thing Coulson wasn’t going to threaten to taze him this time. Hopefully. 

There were so many little things that reminded him of some of his darker, hedonistic days, the days filled with alcohol, careless living, and pushing people away. 

Jesus, even  _ Justin Hammer _ had shown and was talking with a smiling Pepper. 

Tony wished she would smile at  _ him _ like that. 

He swirled what was left of the drink around the glass. He would have time to hate himself later, when the party was over. Tony quickly knocked the rest of the drink back and continued surveying the room.

Foster, Selvig, and Bruce hadn’t shown up yet. They were why this little  tête-à-tête was happening in the first place . Well, that and networking with people he had destroyed once upon a time. Justin Hammer was still in jail in the original reality…or had he been snapped? Would the time that had passed for prisoners be counted as time served? If he ever saw that little, old man again, he’d ask. 

“Hey.” Rhodey leaned against the wall next to him and gripped Tony’s shoulder. Tony flashed him a quick smile, the two of them turned to look out at the room. “How you doing?”

Tony shrugged, eyeing the buffet. “I’m fine.” 

Rhodey’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “You aren’t fine. Pepper told me what happened downstairs. Said you freaked out.” 

He sighed and shifted closer to Rhodey, displacing his friend’s hand as he let his head rest on Rhodey’s shoulder. “I had a bit of a panic attack. That’s all. We were talking about space and it freaked me out. Bad experiences with it in the last few years, which isn’t unexpected, after all…” He looked up into Rhodey’s warm, browneyes. “Can you tell Pepper I’m sorry? I didn’t react well and she didn’t deserve to deal with that.” 

“...Of course. It’d be better if you told her yourself, though,” Rhodey replied, lowering his voice, “I worry about you. You’ve locked yourself in that tower and now Lolo is Loki and she’s fielding all your calls and not letting me speak to you. Obadiah says that Gamora is your bodyguard. It’s like you’re a princess trapped in a tower and you got these two great dragons protecting you.”

Tony’s head snapped up, nearly hitting Rhodey’s chin. “You’ve been trying to get a hold of me?”

Rhodey gave him a look. “Yeah, and Loki keeps saying that you’re busy before she hangs up. Which she does very quickly, I might add.”

Tony groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was definitely not intentional on my part; I’ll talk to her about which calls to let through. I had to take JARVIS offline, and she’s been fielding the calls for the last couple of weeks..” This was his fault, his fault that Rhodey had been resorted to approaching him at a party to talk to him. So many things were his fault.

He felt Rhodey shake his head. “No, stop thinking that. I can tell what you’re thinking, and let me tell you, it’s not your fault. It’s been less than a month since you’ve come back. It’s not fair of us all to try and get your attention when you’ve been so busy. I can’t imagine you have much free time with everything going on.”

Tony didn’t want to admit that he had more free time than he would like. He could design everything he needed, but without the ability to make the majority of it, he was stalled. Stuck thinking about the time he was wasting by having to clean JARVIS up and trying to remember what the world was like around this time. God, everything had changed so much between the two realities. So many little changes. 

“I’ll make time for you, platypus. You’re my boo bear, and I always got time for my boo bear.”

Rhodey’s chest rumbled as he laughed. “I haven’t heard you call me boo bear in a long time. Not since that night where we had to get your stomach pumped.”

“Are you implying that a fifteen-year-old doesn’t have the drinking capacity of seasoned MIT drinkers?”

“Even the most seasoned drinkers wouldn’t toss back 10 shots of tequila in less than an hour. I hope we don’t see  _ that _ tonight.” 

“It was only seven, thank you very much,” Tony poked Rhodey’s bicep, “and, no, that will not be happening. I think my liver would just get up and leave if I tried. Loki would also kill me.”

“Really?” Rhodey raised a conspiratorial brow, “I see her as the type to encourage people to try whiskey enemas.”

Tony blinked. Those two had barely met and Rhodey already had Loki pegged. “She can be a shithead, though I doubt she’d let anyone go through with that. I think.” He looked out to the crowd and spotted her talking to a familiar face—“Is that Banner?”

Rhodey’s head whipped around. “What the hell is he doing here? Did you invite him?” he whispered hurriedly, his lips thinning. 

Tony felt a little taken aback by Rhodey’s vitriolic reaction. Rhodey and Bruce had always been friendly with each other. "I had Loki invite him. I need to ask him about Gamma radiation and that's his jimjam. Only the best for me,” he said, winking at Rhodey. “Also, I want to hear more about the giant, green rage monster.” 

It had been said lightheartedly, except Rhodey slowly rotated his head to look at him incredulously. "Tony, you’re probably out of date on the information on Banner...There are some reports saying he did more damage to New York than the aliens. He is dangerous." He glanced back at Bruce. "You should get him out of here."

"Uh, no,” Tony raised his hands in the air, “That's rude. I invited him, and now I'm going to go talk to him." Tony leaned up and gave Rhodey a kiss on the cheek before sliding into the crowd towards his intended target. 

There was a moment where it seemed like Stane had spotted him and Tony slid behind the broadness that was Steve Rogers, to block Stane's view. He dropped a few hellos and a couple of 'we should talk' and was about to pounce on Bruce when he was completely waysided by two of the industry’s bigger CEOs. Ones that had ended up on the opposite side of Avengers...not that he would give Scott Lang full Avengers status. But he was dead, so his opinion didn’t matter back there anymore. 

"Tony!" Justin Hammer ejaculated cheerfully and pulled him into an awkward one-armed hug. "It's nice to see you're actually back from the dead. You ready to give ol' Hammertech a bit of competition again?" He mimed punching Tony in the stomach like a boxer before bouncing back. 

Tony slapped Hammer's shoulder. "Hey, bucko, I did read that Hammertech managed to get the contract with the Navy. Stane's been falling behind, eh?" he tossed out, not thinking much of his words. 

Justin blinked wildly at him before smiling again. "Well, without you around, I think the rest of us have had a bit of breathing room, but you know what? It's been stagnant for a bit. Time for us to go toe-to-toe again!" 

Tony stared at Hammer, reconsidering his thoughts on him. It had been so long since the Whiplash Incident, he barely thought about the man. Seeing him here, though, all Tony could think was that the man was a total geek. All of their previous interactions had been made up of Tony being entirely dismissive of him...he had been dismissive of a lot of people, to be honest, and yet, looking at Justin Hammer thirteen years and one death later...There was nothing truly malicious about him; he had just wanted to survive the waves that Stark Industries had been making. He was just one of many—the only CEO who had gone off the deep end like that, though.. 

"Yeah...yeah, that'll be good. We should talk some more, Justin. Can you give my assistant your card? Make sure to tell her I asked you to or she might throw it out." He really needed to tell Loki to stop throwing things out. Damn troublemaker. 

"Still don't like being handed things huh? I can understand, it's just one of your quirks that makes you so interesting. Although, not many people can say they've been living on a different planet for the last few years." Justin grunted slightly and Tony could see that Cross had just stepped on his foot. Apparently, he wasn’t happy about not being introduced yet. Little guy should be happy that Cross wasn't wearing stilettos. There was a reason those heels were named after knives. 

"Oh, Tony, this is Darren Cross. He's the head of Cross Technologies, formerly Pym Technologies."

Tony shook the man's hand and did his best not to recoil when he gave him the Knuckle Crusher ™ . "Ousted Hank Pym, eh?"

Cross dropped his hand and gave Tony the pandering smile that he recognized from many CEO’s—mostly Stane. "Been hearing the gossip?"

Tony shrugged a shoulder and gave him a sly smile. Did cross-dimensional time travel count as gossip? 

"It was best for the company. It's always good to have a stable head," Cross looked at Stane who was talking to Natasha, "Stark Industries has certainly benefited from Stane being in charge," he turned back to Tony, "Will you be taking over as CEO again?"

"Maybe. Depends on the paperwork—you know how it is."

"Best to make sure you're stable right?" Justin said and clapped Tony's shoulder again. "You're feeling pretty stable to me!" 

Tony laughed and the three of them talked for a few minutes about corporate bullshit, regulations, and just how much fighting there was for the Air Force contract. Ah, that one had been Tony's pride to get. It meant him and Rhodey got to work together, and who can say no to Rhodey? Not Tony. 

"Stark," there was the dulcet tone of Loki, "Selvig and Foster have arrived."

"Can you take them downstairs to the lab?"

"Am I your slave? Do it yourself," she said, before walking off. 

Tony felt like he had just sucked on a lemon. That little tiff of theirs was stuck up her ass. 

Justin let out a laugh. "She certainly has a way with words."

"That she does. If you'll excuse me, I have some more people to greet. Let’s keep in touch, yeah?" Tony left the two men before they could reply and found the odd ducks who were standing off to the side, nursing drinks. "Erik Selvig and Jane Foster?” he said, giving them a disarming smile, “I'm Tony Stark. Please come with me." He gestured towards where Bruce was and they made their way to his Brucie baby who was being a perennial wallflower—no surprise there. "Dr Banner, I imagine you know of me. I'm famous, you're famous. Let's talk shop." 

That did not get the reaction that he had been expecting. Instead of being adorably flustered and bewildered, Bruce stared at him with tired eyes, looking completely out of it. Tony held out a hand to him, which, thankfully, Bruce took, and he threaded their fingers together to lead him and the other two down into the workshop. He tried not to think about how  _ his _ Bruce would have been surprised or put off by the physical contact. This one barely responded to it. Oh boy.

Tony stepped into the workshop and gestured grandly. “You may be wondering why I gathered you here today—you can just sit anywhere—and yes, you can totally get shitfaced, although I was hoping we could talk a bit before...Or after. Both work for me.” 

Foster and Selvig exchanged a glance, while Bruce just blinked slowly at him. None of them said anything. 

“Okay, fine. I know this is abrupt and probably not what you were expecting when you came here. Or maybe you did, you’re all geniuses, anyways. I’m Tony Stark and I recently came back from the dead, except, not really, just space. The locations where my friends and I came back had a huge gamma burst,” he turned to Bruce, “which is why your lovely self is here.” He spun back to the other two, “And you two are experts in Einstein-Rosen bridges which are just so convenient instead of going all over the galaxy looking for someone.”

Bruce sat down at the counter, his chin in his hand, looking terribly bored. “You’re looking for someone?”

Tony beamed at him. Bruce didn’t beam back. “Yes. There’s an android named Vision who was supposed to come back with us and he didn’t. I think I know where he is, but, alas, I don’t have a jumpship, so making a stable wormhole would be my best bet at getting to him," Tony pointed at them making finger guns, "Hence, why I want to ask you all some questions. You will, of course, all be paid consulting fees.”

Foster and Selvig exchanged another glance. Whatever telepathic communication they had going on resulted in Foster turning to him and nodding. . "Alright, we’re listening." 

He turned back to Bruce, who gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head. "As if anyone could say no to wormholes and androids," Tony said with a wink. 

"What do you have in mind?" Jane finally sat down across at a table and the others followed her lead. Tony bit back a smile as she pulled out a heavily used notebook.

Taking a seat at the head of the table, Tony jumped right into the meat of it. "Okay, I have two lines of thought on this matter; one is to create either a pinhole-sized wormhole to transmit a few data packets through to confirm Vision is there. The other option is to make a full-sized portal and head through. The ideal situation for that would be for us to have a ship."

Jane flipped her book open to a page filled with calculations and she, Selvig, and Tony began talking about the problems of creating an Einstein-Rosen bridge. The technology that would be needed, the variables, and the catalyst required to make the link between Earth and Titan. Would there be an event horizon? Would Titan's gravity affect theirs on Earth? How much gamma radiation would they be able to tolerate? Where would be the best place to build one? How would they assign a set of universal constants in order to create the coordinates? Would they be able to determine the Galactic Center for that?

"Theoretically it would be easy to make an opening on Earth but making sure it opens at the correct spot is the difficult part. How are we sure it would open on the planet we need? What if it opened a portal to the middle of a star?" Jane cracked her knuckles as she spoke, "There would have to be a way to ensure that whatever is on the other side won’t be able to cross over to ours."

"A containment field," Bruce chimed in and turned to Tony, "The amount of energy this would need to generate is ridiculous. I've only seen one power source that could catalyze the opening of an event horizon."

Good old Tesseract. 

Tony wanted to ask Bruce about it, except he would likely be displeased with Tony’s unexpected knowledge. "I have a few things up my sleeve," Tony replied as he put his pen down, "It's sad how far behind Earth is on the galactic scale. If we can manage to do this, we would be able to make incredibly large steps forward for our planet."

Selvig licked his lips. "What's it like out in space?"

The room grew quiet and all six ears were open and twitching.

Wasn't that the thousand dollar question? Tony spun his pen around on the table. "Cold. Vast. Pretty horrible, honestly. The people I've met from space? Pretty cool. Mixed bag, though," he stopped his pen, "How about you guys? Chitauri and Asgardians and all that?"

Tony was pretty sure he heard a mouse fart in the server room with how quiet it got. 

"I’m sorry. I have to go," Bruce mumbled and left the room. Tony stared after him and the other two exchanged yet  _ another _ glance between them.

Tony looked back to the two remaining scientists. "Did I do something wrong?"

Foster’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead and Selvig snorted. “Listen, Mister Stark, how much do you know about the Chitauri invasion?” Foster asked, tapping a pattern on her notebook.

"I know about how they attacked New York under the other Loki’s command. And that the Hulk killed Loki...There was the attack in London that you two were a part of, right? Did something happen to him during one of the invasions?” God, he hoped nothing bad had happened, although, judging by his behaviour, something had definitely happened.

Selvig took the wheel from Foster. "You’re right on all accounts, though you’re missing some crucial details.” Selvig glanced back at the door, as if afraid someone would come in. Such little faith in his security. “The Hulk is responsible for about as many deaths as Loki was. There was a helicarrier. Filled with people,” Selvig pulled out a pen knife and began cleaning his fingernails, “He crashed it. A lot of good people died on it.” 

" _ Oh _ ." This was not good. Not good at all. Even worse than what he had thought. 

Foster let out a heavy sigh, her hands twisting. "Thor, he's a god from Asgard. I don't know if you know too much about it outside of Wikipedia—"

"I know a bit. My assistant is from there."

Foster nodded her head. “Ever since his brother was killed by the Hulk, Thor hasn't wanted to return to Earth. Asgard wanted to punish the Hulk for killing their prince and to punish SHIELD for performing an autopsy on Loki...The first time Thor came back to Earth was when the dark elves attacked," she swallowed heavily and glanced down, "I don't blame him for not wanting to come here. Too many bad memories." Foster looked up and gave him a weak, tight-lipped smile.

For what felt like the millionth time since he had come back, Tony felt as if the world shifted on its axis. He hadn't known about the helicarrier, though that made sense. It was SHIELD information; it wouldn't be shared with the general public and in his world, it had been hovering over the pacific ocean away from prying eyes. Tony’s brows furrowed as his mind instantly connected the dots, from Rhodey’s words to what he had just learned. "So, the Hulk is…considered a public menace, then?”

Selvig shrugged. "We all know Banner can't control it. No one holds it against him, but it's agreed that the world would prefer to have him and not his counterpart."

"Ah."

"I was pretty surprised to see him here," Foster said quietly, "He's become a bit of a recluse, from what I've heard. Well. More of a recluse than before."

Selvig huffed out a laugh at that. "Back when I was still working for SHIELD—a bit after the Battle of New York—I remember hearing them talking about how they were going to keep Banner sedated. I always assumed some sort of induced coma…” He tilted his head in a what-can-you-do way. “Looks like I was wrong. Pretty easy for them to do stuff like that."

Tony assumed that Selvig was thinking of his time while he was in a sanitarium after he had been controlled by Loki. 

There had been many times Tony had hated and resented his need for the arc reactor, but the fact that it helped him prevented Loki from possessing him with his magic glowstick was one moment where he had been immensely grateful for it. Not to toot his own horn, but back then he could have probably taken out all of the Avengers. Okay, maybe not Bruce. Thor might have been hard, but he would have managed. Steve would have been a pancake on the sidewalk. 

"That's fucked up." This truly was the dark timeline. "Alright, thanks for telling me about that...” Tony clapped his hands, “Time to get back to doing what I’m paying you two for. I want to be able to have you two on call. At some point, I’ll get a lab set up, and I want to have the two of you working with me on creating the first wormhole without alien tech. How does that sound? I'm going to draw up the plans and send them to the two of you. Sound good?"

Selvig’s mouth turned down a little. "I’ll have to think about it. Last time I worked on wormhole technology…” he trailed off. He looked a tad queasy as he stood up. "Send me your proposal, and I will get back to you on that." 

Tony watched him head up the stairs before he turned back to anything-but-plain Jane, who was fiddling with her notebook. "What about you?"

She began nibbling her bottom lip, and he could see why Thor liked her. She was pretty adorable. "Erik’ll eventually agree to work with you. A steady paycheck will be good."

Tony nodded, comparing this with what he knew. "I didn't think the two of you would have problems finding work on the teaching and consulting circuit."

Jane shrugged, a wry smile on her face. "You'd think so, but after Erik's breakdown, it's like we've been busted down to postgrad status. We're sort of like that 'aliens' guy from the History Channel."

Tony tried not to laugh. "Hey, he knew there were aliens out there.  _ He was right _ ." 

Jane’s smile became more genuine. "Yeah, he was...We'll be heading back out to Norway in a few days. If you need anything before then, you can give me a call." She slid her card to him even though they both knew he had their contact info.

"Thanks for hearing me out and letting me bounce things off you. Enjoy the party." 

She nodded and headed out of the lab. 

Tony spun his pen. What the hell was wrong with this world? Bruce was being drugged up to contain the Hulk. The fact that the Hulk had  _ destroyed _ the helicarrier. That seemed...wrong. The damage the helicarrier had sustained in the original reality had been from Clint and the others who had been brainwashed, but maybe, without  _ his  _ help to undo the damage... "The host of the party shouldn't be hiding away.” 

He bit back a groan. Tony did not want to deal with Obadiah at the moment. This day was already dragging on and now he had to deal with Obie’s stupid face. “I’m just the host in name only. Loki’s the one in charge.” 

Stane laughed boisterously. “I think everyone has noticed  _ that.  _ She’s very…capable. Give her a bit of time and I think Pepper may lose her spot as best assistant.”

Tony spun around on his stool. “So, what do you need?” He did not want to hear Stane talk about Pepper. Her name on coming from his mouth made bile rise in Tony’s throat. 

Stane leaned against the counter. “What’s going on Tony? You’re avoiding me. I know you’re the one who told Loki to not take my calls.”

Tony looked two feet to the side of Stane’s head. “You’re neutering me. I can’t create anything. I want to work. I want to create, except I can’t. You want me to submit plans and ideas to you, but you know I’m not like that. I need to be able to make and tweak on the fly. How can I do any of that if I don’t have the fabrication technology that I need? My house has been  _ gutted. _ I don’t have any of my metal printers, half of my computers are missing their hard drives, my resources are gone and you’re not giving them back to me because you want to control me!” Tony had barely noticed that he had stood up and approached Stane, voice turning into a shout. 

He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, squeezing them in a way that had once calmed Tony. Now it just filled him with a burning rage. “This is exactly why. You’re off your game. You won’t talk to me. You’re volatile. Yes, we removed a lot of  _ proprietary _ technology from the house, because we thought you were  _ dead. _ ” Stane looked into Tony’s angry eyes and pursed his lips. “I need to know I can trust you Tony, but it feels like you hate me,” Stane dropped his hands, “I don’t know what happened while you were off-planet, but we’re still family. Come upstairs and help your hostess.” 

Tony was left alone downstairs once again. He swung his arm across the table, knocking everything to the floor.

###  ##

Loki stood on the grass, her stockinged feet enjoying the softness of it. Heels looked good, but they had begun to hurt, even for an immortal such as herself. 

There had been many events where people had blatantly wanted to kill her. This, though. This had been different. Their hatred had been better veiled than the courts of Asgard had ever bothered to do. Before, she could have hidden behind the might of her father's power, or even hidden there  _ as _ her father. There was no safety blanket for her to fall back to this time. It was more dangerous here. No Thor to reluctantly keep her safe from anyone who would want to do her harm. 

Only the goodwill and trust of Stark and Romanov kept her safe from the grasp of SHIELD, thus far. At least Gamora didn't know too much. Hell, she had also suffered at Thanos' hands, if not more.  

Loki took a long drink from the bottle of vodka she had absconded with.

 Stark had taken Selvig, Foster, and Banner downstairs some time ago. A large part of Loki was happy that Thor had not shown up. She did not know how she would have reacted if he had come to the party. If she would have been able to maintain the illusion that she wasn't herself, that this Loki was not his Loki. 

Loki suspected whatever happened, it would have been sloppy on her part. Surrounded by enemies on each side, the one familiar role would have been Thor's vitriolic sibling. Sure, she would have ended up in jail on Asgard, but it was better than being  _ disassembled _ . 

Approaching the side of the cliff, she looked down at the crashing waves, illuminated by the light of the moon. Asgard's waterways were calm, only tumultuous near the edge where the Bifrost was located.

She snorted deep and spat off the side of the edge. Some things you just didn't grow out of. 

There was a surprised bark of laughter from behind her. 

"Classy," Loki watched Banner approach with, what she hoped was, an indifferent expression, "Not thinking about jumping right?" He stood close, as if ready to grab her. 

Loki gave Banner a look of baffled incredulity before releasing small chuckle and shaking her head. Her relationship with Banner was...odd in their world. Loki had never really thought about him as a person before, just the creature he was underneath; now she felt a touch of respect. "No. Not this time. I appreciate the concern." She took a swig from the bottle and held it out to him. "Enjoying the party?"

Banner’s eyes slid to hers, not missing the admission. He took a drink from it before passing it back, letting her lead the topic away. "It's alright. I'm not really a party person. Do you want to take a few steps back from the edge?" he asked quietly.

"Worried I'm going to fall?" she retorted, walking away with him, "Is that why you came out here?"

His face was bland as he shrugged. "I saw a someone near the edge with a bottle of alcohol, I was a bit worried that you may fall."

Loki licked her lips. He was different from the Banner she had known, less emotional. Absently, she wondered what had changed him. "Thank you. I'm sorry the party has not been to your liking." She didn't want to think about falling off cliffs. Or bridges. 

"It's a perfectly good party, I'm just the odd man out. I know we spoke earlier, but I wasn’t sure who you were—You're Lolo, Stark's assistant?"

"You may call me that, if you like. Others are calling me Loki, althoughI understand why it may be contentious for many." She cocked her head to the side, turning to look at him. The dark had no affect on her vision. "Especially you."

She watched him stiffened completely, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Loki sent a silent prayer to  _ someone  _ that she wasn't about to get a repeat performance of how her counterpart had died. Fortunately, Banner's shoulders relaxed, and he shook his head as if dispelling little demons from his hair. "You're from Asgard?"

"I lived there a long time ago." She kept her eyes on him, noting that his eyes were flat and dull. Strange. Loki could have sworn that was not what a human’s eyes should look like. 

There was another long pause. "You know I killed Thor's brother." 

Loki tried not to sigh at being referred to as ’ _ Thor's brother, _ ' but that had been the definition of her life for centuries. Never her own person, just an extension of Thor. Typical. "I do not hold it against you or the Hulk. It was Loki versus your world." She strode over to a retaining wall, motioning behind her for him to follow, and sat on it. They continued sharing the bottle.

Banner swallowed and let out a heavy snort. "I wish it was that simple."

"Oh? Forgive my ignorance. I'm not fully up to date, so to speak."

She watched as he swallowed heavily again before speaking. "I'm sorry. I can't talk about it." Banner wiped at his eyes. "It was nice to meet you. You throw really good parties." He pushed the bottle back into her hand and walked off. 

What was that about? 

It really _was_ that simple. The Loki here had tried to take over the world and had his ass handed to him. Simple as that. 

Loki swirled the remaining alcohol around in the bottle, before throwing it off the edge of the cliff. Stupid humans and their weird hang-ups. 

She grabbed her heels and made her way back into the house, ready to wheel and deal with the guests. Selvig and Foster had emerged from their meeting with Stark and seemed happy. Thank the Norns, the whole reason for having this party had turned out right. Although, Loki didn’t know how Foster could look enthusiastic while talking with Stane, Cross beside him and listening intently. 

Spotting a Stark shaped blur rushacross the room, Loki turned to the door where she saw a man standing, beaming at Stark. "Happy! You made it!" 

What kind of name was that? Loki approached them, making sure to stay on Stark's periphery, in case he altered his behaviour with her so close. Finicky little mortals. 

The two men embraced and exchanged pleasantries before sitting on the couch together. Many people had gravitated to them—the Avengers, Coulson, Potts and Rhodes, and Stane—but Stark was only paying attention to this man. Loki sat down on a free spot nearby, sliding her heels back on as she listened. Gamora was close by.

"Look at you, Mister big-name Hollywood director!"

The man flushed. "Oh my god. No, I'm not. I just had a couple of successes and one sort of flop." 

"I don't care! Acting and directing! I didn't think you had it in you!Oh, I didn't mean it that way. I just never took you for the creative type, you know."

Happy chuckled. "I've always liked telling stories. After you went missing, I was approached for a documentary that was being done about you. It was really trashy, so I turned it down and decided to do my own."

Stark's face broke into a gigantic smile. "I saw. The title was inspired."

"Shoot for the Moon. Even If You Miss, You'll Land Among the Starks."

"The Happy Hogan Story. I nearly died laughing when I saw it." Stark slapped Happy's back. “You going to do a follow-up film now that I’m back?”

Happy grinned. “Maybe. I can’t wait to hear about where you’ve been. We could do a series of interviews with dramatic reenactments. Get Robert Downey Jr. to play you.” 

Coulson smoothly inserted himself into the conversation. “Speaking of, how did you get off Sakaar?”

The room went quiet and it felt like every ear in the room was listening. Even the DJ turned the volume down, able to sense the atmosphere. Good. She only hired the best. 

Stark opened his mouth to say something, but Loki stood up, drawing their gaze to her, and she smiled. Opening her arms wide, she said, “I thought you would never ask.” All eyes were on her, and she basked in the attention. It had been so long since the attention had been positive. 

“Not many people know of Sakaar, which is because no one can leave. We are the only ones to have ever escaped. It is the trash heap of the universe, a drain where anything that falls between the cracks of reality."

"Sort of like the living room couch," Clint butted in. 

Loki glanced over at him, ready to ignore him. He did not seem to be aggressive in his statement, however, so she nodded. "Exactly like the living room couch, thank you for the analogy. Sakaar has been ruled by an ancient, immortal being known as the Grandmaster for years beyond number. He is at the top of the food chain, and he decides where everyone else ends up below.”

She swept her eyes around the group gathered before, ensuring she had their attention. “Now, many centuries ago, I ended up between the couch cushions and landed into the wild and savage land of Sakaar. A common saying among the inhabitants there is that you can be one of two things: fighter or food. I, however, managed to carve a new place for myself in his court, which is reserved for his favorites.” Loki gave them a sharp smile, not quite sure what she wanted to convey with it. Let them make of it what they will. “What you must understand about Sakaar is that it is the fucking worst. I mean it. There is nothing to do, I doubt anyone can read, there are no theatrical productions—a crime in my opinion," she raised her hands to the sky and slowly spread them open like she was revealing a marquee, "The only entertainment on Sakaar was the Contest of Champions."

"What? Like Jeopardy?" someone in the crowd said before getting elbowed. 

Loki ignored them. "Much like Midgard's gladiators of old, two people entered the arena and one person left. A bloody ritual that started when the Grandmaster founded Sakaar, and through the years, there would be champions who would climb to the top and reign supreme. They would live in the lap of luxury—as long as they continued to win. The greatest of them even earned their freedom.” She paused. “Not that it would do much, since you were still stuck on Sakaar.” 

She watched Stark smile and cracked open a bottle of beer, seemingly excited to hear about his past on Sakaar, about what kind of intrigues Loki would weave for them. 

"After the great Beta Ray Bill earned his freedom, the Grandmaster searched for a new champion, going through heaps of warriors. Gamora, here,” Loki took the green woman’s wrist and lifted it, “Was the best of the new crop that had come up. Her ability to tear through mountains of enemies with nothing but a blade was legendary, and she climbed the ranks with ease, becoming one of the top ten contenders."

"You're not going to tell me Tony was one of them?" Stane called out, looking at Stark, "No offence." He smiled at Tony. 

Loki laughed, and it sounded like the tinkling of shattered glass falling. It was the laugh she gave to those courtiers in Asgard’s court. "No, of course not. Look at him." Loki had a nagging suspicion that she would pay for that. That glare was rather spectacular. "When he was brought in, the Grandmaster saw the majesty of Stark’s mind, the intellect and cleverness that could help the Grandmaster tighten his control on the populace.” She began to walk to her left, towards a certain person.Now, we all know that Stark has a strong moral compass and would not help in the subjugation of the masses, and so he was brought on as a tinkerer. Someone to create and build anything that the Grandmaster desired. Some of which were used by Miss Daddy Long Legs," Loki winked at Natasha, having arrived in front of her.

"Black Widow," Steve corrected.

"Never heard of it," Loki replied, blithely ignoring him, "Now, her job was to trawl the outer portals, looking for new members of Sakaar society. Some became workers, some became champions, but most became food. She is the one who brought Gamora to the Grandmaster."

Loki wondered if Thor had ever told Stark or Romanov of his time on Sakaar. That they recognized how she twisted the roles, with Gamora playing the role of both the Hulk and Thor, and Natasha taking the role of Valkyrie. Loki played, at least, herself.

"Little did I know, at the time, that the three of them were working on a plan to escape the planet and maybe overthrow the Grandmaster on their way out. Their plan had been stalled for over two years until the android Vision appeared and was brought forth as a champion. He is a creation of amazing intelligence and, some would say, unnatural abilities. He can phase through matter like it is not there. He possesses the power to fly and shoot beams of energy from his body.” Loki strolled back to her original spot and waved a hand. “Needless to say, the Vision scared the Grandmaster and could have overthrown him with ease, if he had the temperament for it. Fortunately for the Grandmaster, the Vision is not a violent being.”

##

Vision swung the spear wide, slicing the head off of the Chitauri in front of him. No one had noticed the decrease in soldiers since he had stowed away on the ship, but that may have been because he had been phasing them through the wall and dropping them into space like a trail of breadcrumbs. This would require further deliberation on the effects of their bodies in the pollution of space.

##

Loki paused, smiling at the thoroughly enraptured crowd. "As I said before, I was a member of the Grandmaster's court, and I may have fallen out of favour for betting against his favorite champion. Apologies, Gamora. From that point, I began to look for some way to earn his favor back, and along the way, I discovered their little plan. Was I to reveal their plan to the Grandmaster and regain my status, or do I give them the leadership that they so desperately needed? Since we are all here, you can see what route I chose. To help them overthrow the Grandmaster and escape that pit-stain of a realm? It was hardly a question. After I became involved, it only took us six months to perfect our escape...which went off with quite a boom." 

Tony snorted and raised his bottle. "To our fearless leader."

Loki smirked, feeling mirth in her eyes as she raised her own glass. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at improvising. "To the man with the plan."

"To Team Soul Squad!" Gamora shouted and drained her own bottle of booze. Rather unexpectedly enthusiastic, that one. 

"Oh my god, no. Stop trying to make Team Soul Squad happen. It's never going to happen," Natasha said, laughing loudly.  

"Team Soul Squad?" Steve asked, confusion etched on his face. 

"It's because we got soul," Tony replied, "But we're not soldiers."

There was a groan from Clint and a small chuckle throughout the room, breaking the vistages of Loki’s spell on the room. People began to go off and talk, dance, or drink. Or all three at once. 

###  ##

After the little gathering for Loki's story had disbanded, Steven Grant Rogers took it upon himself to sit next to Tony on the couch, and in what was 100% not a coincidence, Phil Coulson sat on his other side. It felt like he was in the middle of a SHIELD sandwich.

They didn't say anything. 

"So, since it seems like you guys are planning an Eiffel tower, how are we going to do this? I see that you two have chosen where you want to be, but—"

Steve's heavily creased brows said all Tony needed to know. He did not know what Eiffel towering was, and Tony wasn't going to take that away from him. "What?"

Coulson let out a small cough, "It's noth—"

"It's when three people sit together and the two on the outside high five each other over the middle person."

The brows unfurrowed. "Oh! High five, Phil!" Steve raised his hand above Tony's head.

The unmitigated anger—or so Tony liked to think—in Coulson's gaze when he looked at Tony as he slowly raised his hand to high five Steve was something that would warm him in the coldest of nights. It wasn't malicious, of course; getting a rise out of people was so much fun.

Tony graced Coulson with a bright smile. "Not many people can say they got Eiffel towered by Captain America." 

Coulson leaned back and stared at him. Alright, then.  

Tony sat back, his arms spread across the top of the couch, taking up the space behind them. "So, how can I help you?"

Coulson took Tony’s arm that was closest to him and slapped a datapad into his hand. "These are some brief summaries of projects that SHIELD has been working on. If you are capable of assisting, let me know." He gave Steve a nod and then left. 

"Well, that was curt. No fun talking shop during a party," Tony muttered and scrolled down the page. Some of this tech was so outdated it was almost cute that they were giving it to him. He could fix a lot of this—He stopped scrolling at the entry on Extremis. It wasn't called that here—nothing had their real names—but he knew the fiery, healing, death serum pretty well. He could give them the  _ cure _ for that. Not the perfected version of the serum, only the way to undo Killian's soldiers. Easy peasy. Just had to remember what he did last time. 

If only they had Vision around so he could ask him for his files on it. 

“I can work on these three,” Tony tapped the screen and passed it to Steve, “Tell him to send the files to Stark tower.” He was ready to leave, but Steve’s hesitation at taking the datapad made him stay seated. 

Steve hadn't moved from his position and merely pocketed the datapad. "I don't know if you’re aware, but I was friends with your father." 

Tony's mouth went as dry as the Sahara. His feelings regarding his Steve Rogers were almost as complicated as his feelings regarding his father, and to have to deal with them both at the same time? No, thank you.

He may have had some closure concerning his father, but it was still over twenty years of baggage that he just couldn't shrug off, and then Steve...Steve, Steve, Steve...They hadn’t liked each other when they had met, butting heads during a world-ending crisis. They had moved on from that, though, Steve becoming someone who Tony thought he could rely on. And then Tony found out about what he had been hiding from him. 

In hindsight, he didn’t blame Barnes for what he had done; it had been HYDRA, but for Steve to go for  _ years _ without telling him that his parents had been  _ murdered? _ It had been unforgivable. Every time they had spoken after the Snap, after their failure to stop Thanos, there had been that underlying tension and anger. He could follow Steve Rogers into battle and trust him with his life, but he would be a fool to think that he could trust Steve to do right by him. 

A hand waved in front of his face. "Stark?"

Tony snapped his head to Steve, who was looking concerned, like a puppy dog that didn't know where the ball had gone. "Sorry, yes. I did know. He spent a few decades looking for you in the ice. Although, Aunt Peg had better stories than Dad did." He really needed to stop zoning out. 

"Aunt Peg? You don't mean Peggy Carter, do you?"

"The one and only." Tony took a long drink of beer. He did not want to talk to Captain America right now, but he couldn't see anyone who could come to his rescue. Hopefully Loki was secretly telepathic and could hear his panic. He had always suspected that was the case with Natasha, but that she  _ chose _ not to help. 

“Oh, I didn’t think you would know her…It makes sense, though,” Steve said, sheepishly.

“Yeah, you three certainly got up to a lot of trouble during the war. Aunt Peg liked to create trouble after, according to Pops,” Tony tossed Steve a half-hearted smile, “Jarvis, my dad’s butler, had some great stories about the trouble she’d get into. Evil Russian sleeper agents and all that.” 

Speaking of evil Russian sleeper agents, where was Natasha to save him from an awkward conversation?

“Huh. I haven’t heard about that. I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next.”

Tony snorted. “If she’s allowed to tell you. I imagine it’s all hush-hush secret SHIELD stuff. Although, since you’re an agent there, maybe it would be kosher for her to tell you.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “If it’s so secret, how come you know?”

“Well, Jarvis wasn’t a SHIELD agent and my dad was a lush when you put a few glasses of whiskey in him,” Tony took another sip of his beer, wishing he had something stronger, “Enough about that...I think there’s a prototype for a new shield that my dad was working on in the basement here somewhere, unless it was taken to Stark Industries while I was presumed dead.” Tony didn’t know what to say right now and so he was opting to say anything that popped into his mind. He just loved to fill the silence with anything that wasn’t nothingness and it really played into people like Natasha’s hands. “Thanks for getting Gamora safe to us by the way.”

Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t an issue,” he stood up and tugged his shirt down over his ridiculously sculpted abdomen, “I know this is a few decades late, but. I just wanted to pass on my condolences. Howard was a great man.”

Tony clenched his jaw tight, feeling it begin to ache. “Yeah, he could be.” Part of him wanted to come clean with Steve, to tell him about everything, about how they had died and come back, about Barnes and HYDRA and make everything normal. Make this world more familiar. But he knew it wouldn't be the same. Nothing could be the same, really.

"Thanks for coming to the party." The two men shook hands and Steve wandered off. 

Tony sat back and just watched the party, relishing a moment when he was blissfully unbothered by anyone. Foster and Selvig had promised to send him some of their research; Selvig was now on the dance floor doing a bit of a shuffle. Jane Foster was off to the side making notes in her book. Tony would have to ask Loki why she had invited Darren Cross—as far as he knew, no one had told Loki about Pym Co…Well, there was always the fact that Loki could have peeped on some things in the soul stone. Or had done research.

Tony had finished his bottle of beer and was now sipping one of those drinks that tasted like a pineapple had an orgy with a strawberry and a lot of alcohol. He had steadily been nursing his third one as he watched the party around him. Well, in all honesty, he wasn’t watching the party. He was watching Pepper and Rhodey sit together in a chair, talking with Stane, happy smiles on their faces. 

He had always loved  _ his  _ Pepper—just at a distance. They had touched and been intimate, but they were never  _ that _ couple, the one who held hands, hugged in front of everyone, sat in public curled around each other. They had saved that for when they were in private, away from prying eyes. Tony had always thought that it was because Pepper wanted to keep a professional distance in the public eye, but now it was dawning on him that it was  _ him. _ It had always been him. He had been afraid of showing vulnerability, of showing people his weakness—no, Pepper wasn’t his weakness; she was his strength. He hadn’t wanted to put a target on her back, but his mere presence in her life had done that—

“Stop.” Gamora stepped in front of him, her hands on her hips. 

Tony took a long drink, his eyes slowly focusing on her. “Stop what?”

Gamora took the drink out of his hand and placed it on a side table. She turned to him again and dragged him across the room to the dance floor. “Stop pining and dance with me.”

They made their way to the middle of the dance floor, and Gamora closed her eyes and began to move in rhythm with the music, her hips swinging from side to side. 

It had been a long time since Tony had danced, but he began to dance as well, stumbling a bit given the amount of alcohol in his system. Soon he was dancing to the beat of the music, losing himself to it. Gamora moved closer to him and they swayed together, their movement’s harmonizing. 

Tony wasn’t a short man, but Gamora was able to look down at him, her dark eyes seeing right through his very being and he was in the moment. Just Gamora, the pounding of the beat, the swaying of their bodies, the heat of the crowd pressing up against them. He didn’t know how long they danced together, how many songs were played. He didn’t really know anything except that his mind was blissfully blank of anything except what his senses were feeding him. When Gamora put her arm around his torso and held him up, that was when Tony realized how sweat-drenched he was and how wobbly his legs were. They stumbled off the dance floor and Tony saw that the party had died down a bit, that they had been amongst the last few people who had been dancing. 

She held him close and guided him to an empty couch. “You’re hot.”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t, his mouth running on autopilot. “I know. I look in the mirror every day.” 

“That is not what I meant. You are overheated,” Gamora said and undid the top button of his shirt. He tried not to be reminded of how Loki had done the same earlier. Thankfully, Mean Green stopped at the first button and didn’t have a box cutter.

Tony weakly waved a hand and sat up a bit. “I know. I appreciate the concern. It’s just been a while since I’ve danced like that.” 

“You are indeed older than most of the other dancers,” Gamora replied.

He blinked. Her words weren’t intended as an insult, though certainly hit him in the grey hairs. “True...I work out sometimes, in my defense.” Tony pushed himself up and looked around the room, having come back to his senses. There was still a fair amount of people, but it seemed to be winding down, people leaving to go back to their homes. 

There was no sight of Pepper and Rhodey around, although there were people watching. So many eyes on him and Gamora sitting on the couch together. Stane looked like he was ready to approach them and talk and sober Tony, meaning slightly-inebriated Tony would have a much harder time dealing with him. Who knew what might spill out of his mouth. “I’m going to head back down to the workshop. It’s a bit cooler there.” 

“I’ll come with you. No need for you to fall down the stairs and die,” Gamora said lifting him up from the couch again, “One time Peter fell down the stairs and we thought he was dead. Turns out he was just unconscious and told us to stop poking him. Well, after he woke up to Rocket stealing from his pockets.”

The two of them descended into the workshop, only pausing for him to scan his hand and open the door. “Do you miss him? Star-Douche?”

Gamora pursed her lips and let out a small chuckle. “I do. But I know he can function without me and I without him. It’s better, though, being around him. Peter helped me open up. I was already in the process of betraying my father—he made it fun to do,” she set him down on a stool and leaned on the table staring him in the eyes, “Speaking of Peter, or rather things I used to do with Peter…have you heard of the concept of friends with benefits or is that something alien to this world?”

That deer-in-headlights feeling was back with a vengeance and his heart pounded beneath his ribcage. “I— uh— yes? We have it on Earth. Why?” Tony hated how it sounded like his voice broke like he was some pre-pubescent teenager at the end.

Gamora gave him a long look and he felt slightly hunted by one of the universe’s greatest assassins. “You’re smart. I think it’s fairly obvious. There are things I want to do that involve another person, and I think that you need to get your mind off of a lot of things, and I’ve always found the blood rushing somewhere else instead of your head helps. Also, Loki declined.”

Tony’s mind raced. He was being propositioned by a beautiful alien to be friends with benefits. He was also her second choice. “You asked Loki first?”

“I can never get you alone. Always busy with one thing or the other. Loki is much more accessible.” Gamora tossed her hair behind her shoulder and looked at him through her eyelashes. “You didn’t answer my question. Would you like to relieve some tension?”

Tony wetted his lips and pushed all thoughts of Pepper to the back. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a million thanks to my lovely beta eris. Without her, there would not be enough commas and too many buts... among other things. (87 but's initially. smh)
> 
> So, initially, Eri and I were aiming to have a chapter out every two weeks and we were doing good at that pace... during summer. My beta has been banished back to schooling and I... have been lazy because of multiple video game releases. For the time being, we're bumping the updated schedule to every three weeks (we aim to hit publish on Tuesdays), that way there are sizable chapters (5k+) that have been betaed and I have a bit more leeway with writing. Sorry for the delay in updates, but at the moment it's what we are able to do. Thank you all for reading and commenting! We both love you all!


	10. Badda bing. BADDA BOOM!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient. Real life has snuck up on us and kicked us in our theoretical balls and time. 
> 
> A million billion thank you to my beta eri who has a hard job of editing while also being an amazing human being and smarty pie.

Clint tapped his phone. On the screen, the ball burst a series of teal coloured balls; he was just a bit closer to beating it. Six shots left—if he could get the yellow ball between the two pillars of red, and hit the two yellows nestled deep inside, he could finish it in four moves. Provided the RNG didn't screw him over. 

He carefully lined up the shot. Clint needed to bounce it off the wall in order to get it through the one-pixel clearance. Sliding his finger minutely, he carefully watched the guideline showing him the exact spot where he could release it. 

He took a deep breath, aiming to release it between heartbeats. The second he began to lift his finger, the jet shook with turbulence, causing the yellow ball to lodge between the tops of the red pillars. The new ball was yellow. No red to counter from. 

" _Fuck_." Clint closed the app and stormed up to the cockpit where Rogers was piloting. "Have you ever heard of not hitting turbulence?"

Rogers shot him a look that was between annoyance and amusement. "Did you fail your little ball game?"

Clint flipped him the bird out of his sight. 

"The windows are reflective."

"Fine. Whatever," Clint looked at the readings, "Tell me that means six minutes, and not six hours are left on this damn flight."

"Six minutes. You should buckle in."

Clint dropped into the seat next to him, watching the readings. "So, did Fury tell you why we're doing this off the books?" Clint knew why it was off-the-books, and part of him wondered if Rogers was still being kept at a distance. Ever since Original Natasha had died, Fury hadn't been as upfront with Rogers. Since the appearance of New Natasha, it seemed like Fury was about to draw Rogers back into the fold. Part of Clint understood _why_ ; Fury needed to know who he could trust in this time of reappearances. Clint didn't want Rogers to be in the inner circle.

Hopefully, New Natasha would be let in. Was it even a circle at this point? It was just Fury, Hill, and him—the inner triangle? If Rogers was brought in, it would be a square… Sounded about right. They'd need at least three more to form a real circle. 

Rogers drew him out of his musings. "No. Secretary Pierce told him it was a waste of time and resources researching where their portals opened."

Clint nodded. Rogers wasn't wrong, but it was closer to Pierce ordering Fury to completely stop when this location had been pinpointed. 

And Fury didn't put up with anyone telling him no. In a work setting, that was. In all other settings, he respected consent.

As they descended through the clouds, Clint buckled in. No need to be like that rookie who had gotten thrown into the windshield a few weeks ago. It was pretty funny. One of the flight crew had found one of the eyeballs in a mug. 

Siberia rose around them. Well, it was more like they descended into it, but it looked like it was coming up—all a matter of perspective, really. Mountains were mountainous and trees were…woody. It was a lot greener than the last time Clint had been out this way. Changing seasons will do that, apparently.

They landed on a flat area and disembarked. He took in a deep breath. Smelled like nature. 

“Any signs of life?”

Clint pulled out his datapad. Fury had shared data from the satellite feeds, showing what looked like a bunker half a kilometre away from where they had landed. No heat signatures, no bio signs of anything.

"Nada… How did Natasha find a fucking plane out here? Better yet, how did she take off in a plane? There’s not enough flat land for a runway. Those old MiG-29’s can do a near-vertical take-off, but they still need a runway.” Clint squinted at the dirt as if it would give him the answers he so desperately wanted. 

Rogers put his shield on his back. "Let's find out," he said, and began to jog towards the coordinates. 

Clint released a huff of air and followed behind him. _Oh, look at me. I'm Steve Rogers, and I can run faster than everyone else, and everyone loves me and my stupid handsome face even though my part-time hobby is showing up a few minutes before anyone else and tapping my foot. I'm the best and everyone thinks I'm the best even if I get people killed_. 

Nope. No resentment here at all. 

Rogers was already in the shade of the bunker's overhang. Thankfully, he was looking around instead of watching Clint make his slowish way across.

On his approach, Clint spotted a serious overhang that looked like a perfect spot to park a small fighter jet or two... Wait, it was being held up by pillars-- Oh. “Secret underground Russian bunker. This is always good.” It was never good. 

He approached the sealed door that Rogers was looking at. “Natasha was here, but it looks like someone else was too.” 

“Lots of someone elses. That’s a lot of different tread patterns,” Clint said, pulling out his handy-dandy door opening tool. Explosives. 

Rogers watched him with a small grin on his face. "This door is at least a foot thick of solid steel.”

“You doubt the ultimate power of C4? As if a measly foot—” 

Rogers knocked on the door. It failed to echo.

Clint sighed. Yeah, he was right. “Can you go fetch the thermite kit?” He began removing the C4 while 100% not pouting. Stupid Captain America having to be right and denying Clint’s right to make a large dent in the door. 

He paced around the door looking for any cracks in the armour. It seemed secure— cement all around, no cracks that he could push anything through, a considerable overlap of steel everywhere. They’d probably find well-oiled hinges if it survived the melting. 

Of the Russian bases that he had been to in the past, this one was different; it hadn’t been abandoned decades ago. The majority of them had been unused for years and were easy to access, for a trained SHIELD operative, anyways. 

He glanced at the relatively new camera that clearly went up after the Cold War ended. 

Clint was happy that Rogers was here with the giant bullseye he wore on his back. Gave him time to shoot the people shooting at Cap.

“Got it.” Rogers dropped the bag on the ground. 

Clint rummaged through it, pulling out his door destroying supplies. Why pick a lock when you can just blow the door?

That sounded wrong. 

“I swear you left only thirty seconds ago,” Clint muttered, as he attached a few nodes to the door, pinging information from the nodes to the datapad.

It said exactly what he expected it to say. The door was thick.

Clint lined up his drill and began to press it through the metal. The drill bit protested heartily for about two inches of pure steel, before it hit air on the other side and stopped screaming.

Ha, suck it. Not _solid._  

After briefly using a scope to see if he had pierced through to the other side, the answer was no, just the inside of the door. Cheap commie bastards. 

He repeated the process of drilling holes in the door before taking a funnel and pouring pounds upon pounds of thermite powder in. Hehehehe. Sure, Fury didn’t like him using it all the time, but it was so much fun watching everything get melted. 

As long as there was no secondary door they should be fine. It wasn’t fair that Fury let him only have one kit at a time now. Sure, he used about 4 kits once, and, _maybe,_ it was overkill, but they still got the hostages out of that building alive. 

"Are we sure that's not going to melt the concrete or trip some ground alarm?" 

"If they are relying on a ground alarm instead of that camera up there, I think we have less to worry. Also, concrete can't be melted by thermite. At least, it can't be melted by an even dispersal of it. it would have to be a focal point." He finished up filling the door with iron shavings and took out a small, heavily armoured container, opening it with care. 

White phosphorus. Super poisonous, super hot, and, mainly, super deadly. The heat was the main reason they needed it—thermite had an ignition point of 3000F and white phosphorus ignited on contact with air. The vial that held the chemical was extremely delicate and would break from an eleven-inch fall. 

He slowly pushed the vial into one of the drilled holes, until it was almost all the way in, pulled out a small rod out and pushed it the rest of the way in, before running back almost a hundred feet. He didn't need Laura yelling at him for dying. 

Clint and Steve watched as the bottom of the door ignited and smoke billowed from it. 

"You know when you started drilling the door that meant we could have planted plastic explosives in it," Rogers said. 

"There are few things I like more than C4, and thermite is one of them," Clint replied, a grin on his lips as the bottom of the door collapsed.

"Explosions are just as neat as melting."

"We see explosions all the time. We don't get to burn Soviet steel every day." 

The smoke cleared out, revealing that the bottom two feet of the one door had been melted. Clint...was not going to be able to get through the opening, what with all his gear. He sighed. "I'll get the C4." 

They repeated the process, except this time, there was a hole with a four-foot diameter they could pass through. 

"That was so sad. I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end, we had to go back to C4."

Rogers gave him a friendly pat on the back before sliding into the hole shield first.

Clint followed him, his boot sliding across the melted steel, and his back scraping against the jagged edges of the door. It didn’t hurt. Much. He would need to make sure he was up to date on his tetanus shots. 

Outside of the scrapes, it had been a pretty good day, so far—weird secret bunker, thermite, and C4. What more could a man ask for? Well, he could have asked for a lack of spooky hallways with way too many hiding spots for potential attacks. Yay.

They traversed the cramped, industrial hallways, looking for any sign of life, any evidence of who had occupied this bunker.

"No dust, scrape marks in the concrete, and the few carts at the front—looks like a lot has been moved out of here, recently," Rogers declared. Clint was inclined to agree with him, because he, too, had eyes and a brain. Astute observation, oh great Captain America. 

They continued further in, finding nothing except emptiness and the eerie feeling that this place had been occupied very recently. Just what had Natasha landed on? The passage they were in ended with an industrial elevator. Clint let out a little huff and stepped in, trying to avoid looking down the shaft through the grated floors. What kind of sadist did that? Open-sided elevators, and a grate floor? That was just evil. Or cheap. Maybe both. 

"Fury is going to be so mad if we get trapped in here and he has to send the STRIKE team to retrieve us," Clint said, watching the walls around them rise as they sunk.

"I think we can handle Fury being upset."

"Can we? Illicit operation, and all that. Pierce will drag us into the room, put us in a line and spank all of us until he's happy. And Pierce isn’t exactly my type. Although, I do imagine he has a strong hand for my firm tooshy."

Rogers didn’t respond except for a slight tick in his jaw like he was trying to bite back a smile. 

The elevator finally finished when they were, what felt like, 1000 feet down.

Computer monitors, empty filing cabinets, rifled-through desks, and in a circle on the walls of the room were five large tubes. Big enough to hold human bodies. Or alien bodies. Or gorillas. Or a small crocodile that was standing up and balancing on its tail.

Clint approached one of the tubes. At the bottom was a small puddle of water, and the top was surrounded by vents. The entire area was chilly, but the actual tube was icy cold to the touch. "Now, don't call me a Star Trek fan or anything, _but_ I think these are stasis chambers. They look like stasis chambers.”

Rogers pulled a file out from under one of the desks and looked at Clint, a perfectly sculpted brow raised in bemusement. "That's a bit of a leap, isn't it?"

"Just because you used straight-up ice doesn't mean other people have to. Nat's never said anything about the Russian's having cryo sleep, but we live in the future and weird shit happens. Aliens and shit."

Rogers said nothing. He was staring at a folder on the desk in silence, his gloved fingers slowly skittering over it before he lifted it. 

“What is it?”

Rogers held up the folder he had found, a skull with tentacles below stared back at Clint.

Clint’s brows furrowed. "Is that what I think it is? No, that doesn't make sense. HYDRA was destroyed back when you went into your big nap. This place has been used recently. It can’t be fucking HYDRA," Clint grabbed the folder from him, "This must be old and they're repurposing the buildi—" He read the first page. "And reusing the stationary."

"You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me,” Rogers took the folder back, stowing it away, suddenly alert. Clint could see the hairs on the back of the other man’s neck had risen.

Clint looked around before whispering, "We have to tell Fury." 

A bright flash illuminated the room, the intensity of it bleaching Clint’s vision before he could screw his eyes shut. Eyes firmly closed, he felt, rather than see that the room had plunged into darkness and dropped to the ground as fast as he could. Clint’s corneas were confused by the whole thing, since there was still white dancing in his vision when he opened them again. 

He pushed himself towards where he remembered a desk being and crawled under it as he grabbed his bow. Clint violently blinked until he could see more than white outlines. 

There was a brief scuffling, and he felt Rogers’ hand on his leg. "Don’t move.” 

“I wish we had grabbed the night vision goggles… I think this is a booby trap."

"And you're the boobies," came a masculine voice that he didn’t recognize. It was followed by gunfire. 

Clint reached into his bag of tricks and Rogers shielded them from the gunfire with his shield. He could hear them ricocheting off the vibranium. Good old frisbee. “I only have four.” 

“Should be enough.” 

Clint covered his eyes and pulled the flares out of his bag, and passed them to Rogers who ignited, and tossed them out from behind his shield, avoiding the barrage of bullets. 

Rogers pushed out, running towards the shooter as Clint ducked out from under the desk and retreated behind the barely illuminated stasis chambers. He pulled out the plastic, pressed the rods into it, applied the double sided sticky tape, and set the timer to five seconds. 

Clint peeked out from his hiding spot and spotted the outline of Cap swinging his shield at their attacker, a man who was barely visible even with the flare underneath the two. 

“T-minus five seconds until you have to turtle,” Clint said into his mic, activating the timer, and chucked the C4 towards the two men. Yeet. 

Rogers grabbed the C4 from the air. Nocking an arrow, Clint aimed at the man’s thigh to distract him for Rogers. The bolt hit the man, and he stumbled, allowing Rogers to stick the C4 on him before retreating back towards Clint. 

Unfortunately, that did not stop him, and the last thing Clint saw before the world went black was Cap's bloody face and the patriotic banner shield, protecting them. 

* * *

 

Clint lifted the Jell-o cup, pushed it against his mouth, and proceded to suck the Jell-o in through the gap in his teeth, making the most annoying sound in the world.

The nurse gave him a dirty look, which he knew he deserved, but nevertheless, he continued, going harder until Rogers sat up and gave him the dirty look he had wanted. Rogers looked like a raccoon and Clint loved it. His little black and blue eyes and the bandage across his nose. 

Sure, they both got injured from the blast, Clint more than Rogers, and he had to be dragged out and put on the jet, but it was still funny seeing Mister Beautiful look messed up. He didn't want Rogers dead, but it was a nice reminder for everyone, including Cap himself, that he was mortal. 

"Where's Fury?" Clint asked. He had heard through the grapevine that the man was on the base somewhere.

"Right here." Fury had opened the door and was inside the room in less than a second, looking extremely unimpressed. He kicked the nurse out and pointed at them. "This was supposed to be on the down-low. Do you two understand what that phrase means?

Clint raised his hand. "I do.”

“That was a _rhetorical_ question.”

“You gonna tell us that Pierce is so far up your ass, you can feel him tickling your tonsils?”

Fury gave him a one-eyed glare that Clint was practically immune to at this point. "Since you already know what kind of day I’ve had, let’s just get to it. Barton,” Fury pointed at him, "Because you decided to go and get yourself _injured_ , you’re going to be on babysitting duty.” 

Clint threw his arms up in protest. "What?! No! C’mon! It’s just a flesh wound!”

“Shut it. You get to go and do covert surveillance on Obadiah Stane. All up high in a little birdie nest where you can watch him all day.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Don’t get injured next time and you won’t be on corporate espionage duty.” Fury handed him a file folder. "Ever since Stark came back, Stane has been all over Afghanistan looking for something. I suspect he’s not happy that Stark is back. Word has it that in a year or so, he was going to do a corporate rebranding to Stane industries.”

Clint rubbed his chin. “I could see that being a real pain in Stane’s balls. Stark Industries sounds better anyways. Has that hard sound at the end. More satisfying to say… Or I might just be too resistant to change. What do you think, Cap? You knew old man Stark.”

Rogers shrugged. “With time, things change. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Stane would want to rebrand,” he turned to Fury, “What am I doing?”

Fury looked around the room and then tapped a finger to his ear. "We’ll talk later once I figure out what I’m going to have you do.” From his trench coat, he pulled the folder that Rogers had found with the HYDRA symbol emblazoned on it. "Sometime later. Both of you rest up before you get shipped back home.”

* * *

 

Tony sat across the table from May Parker as they went over his accounts. Loki had provided the books that Pepper had given her during what he assumed was a secret assistant to assistant handoff and initiation session that involved a blood pact under a full moon. He wouldn’t expect anything less from Loki, in all honesty. 

While they had been having their little party back on the Best Coast, May had been going through the numbers and figuring out just where all his money was. After he went "missing," it had been handed off to the lawyers and Pepper had been blocked from continuing her job with his money. Boo.

"So, we can open up an LLC and move money from these accounts into a new business account, as an investment."

"And after that, we can buy the fabrication printers?"

May grimaced. "You can, _but_ given the costs of one, I would not advise it. While you were...away, you received wages for a year to your accounts, except bills kept coming in. For example, the lawyer you had on retainer, Allen Fazon, never stopped requesting his retainer fee and in some cases charged more despite the fact that he was not working on anything."

Tony sighed and pulled out his phone. "This website says I'm worth 12.8 billion dollars. Why can't I scrape together a measly 15 million for the printers I need." If it was back in 2023, the damn printers would cost a fraction of that. Mainly, because he had rendered them obsolete with the nanotech.

"Those aren't liquid assets. If you had access to all your accounts right now, you would have a billion dollars cash, but until you are officially declared not dead by your executor—"

Fucking Stane. 

"—you will be stuck with the accounts he and your lawyer missed, which are significantly less. Especially with all of your expenses, which Miss Vely and I are working at getting under control."

"The printers really can't be affecting them _this_ much."

"The printers are the initial investment. From there, we have to take into account the resources for using them, the power, storage, and the materials. Titanium may only cost $30 a pound, but gold is over $15,000."

"That's not that much..."

May pinched the bridge of her nose like she was dealing with a very slow child. "Mister Stark, how much is a banana?"

Tony shrugged. "I mean, it's one banana, May. What could it cost? $10 dollars?"

The stare let him know that he was very wrong. 

“...I’ll take that as a no.”

"You have the resources to do this, but it will be a money pit. Your best bet would be using pre-existing infrastructure. Outsourcing to a different company will be the most cost-effective and it won't burn through your assets."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back in his chair, the cracking of his spine echoing through the room. "What I plan to create... No one can get access to it. Even if I have a million contracts drawn up, all it takes is one enterprising thief to take my plans and sell them to someone who could use them to hurt people."

May tapped her pen against the desk and said nothing. "It's a risk that you may have to live with." 

That was the problem. He would be forced to live with it, but anyone hurt by his creations...they probably wouldn't be living with it. No need to add to his body count. "I'll figure something out... Not to be nosy, well, I'm going to be, but why are you a bookkeeper? You know more than enough to get your CPA…” He trailed off at the look on her face. “Why are you giving me that look?"

May's expression had morphed from slightly put upon to the pinched lips of someone who was not pleased by the question. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Tony raised his hands up, surrendering. "That was totally inappropriate of me and I apologize."

May shrugged, dismissing it. The room seemed significantly cooler and she returned to looking over the numbers in his accounts. 

“Let me contact Stane and my lawyers and I’ll try again to get my accounts back. Thanks for coming over today.”

May nodded and began to pack up her stuff to leave for the day. “Have a good day, Mister Stark,” she said stiffly.

Tony spotted Loki watching the two of them from the kitchen area and she watched in silence as May entered the elevator and left.

"I thought you said the two of you were _friendly_?" said Loki.

Speaking of "friendly," he and Loki had been anything but since their return from Malibu. They had put on friendly enough facades while in public, but their...altercation in the server room had left them chilly. Freezing. Arctic-levels. He understood Loki's point, but it still didn’t lessen his pain.

“Yeah, we are friendly. When I’m not putting my foot in my mouth,” Tony grumbled. “You going to do anything helpful or you going to tell the Daily Bugle I believe in the Stark Tower ghost again?”

“You do believe in the Stark Tower ghost. I did not say anything that factually incorrect,” Loki countered and leaned against the counter, her fingers slowly brushing over the tools he had left on the table. 

“No, that’s not how this works. The only ghost is you going invisible and creeping people out. People died in the tower and now it’s getting all weird when I talk to people downstairs.”

Loki let out a snort. "The only person who died in this tower was my counterpart and Asgardians refrain from turning into ghosts. It is too… ghoulish.”

“And here you are, haunting the people of New York, because it gets your jollies off,” Tony sniped. 

Loki’s fingers tightened around a wrench on the counter, her knuckles turning white. "If you are acting like this because I told you to get over Miss Potts, I think it really explains why your Avengers failed the universe. So petty and fragmented because of your poor, bruised ego. You just cannot stand being told no.”

Tony’s lips turned downward. "I respect that Pepper here doesn’t want to be with me and I would never try to take her from my _best friend_. I’m not the monster you think I am.” 

“I never said you were a monster. Projecting, perhaps?”

Tony magnanimously ignored the quip. “Well, you’ve certainly been implying it. Look, I get it. Right now, you’re a stranger in a strange land and instead of being treated as your royal self, you’re being asked to do someone else’s bidding. I can’t imagine how you, a god, could possibly handle the thought of a mere mortal, a being below you, ordering you around, but, for now, there’s nothing I can do to change this. I am trying my best for all of us. You, me, Gamora, Natasha… Vision, one day when we can get a hold of him. This is a group effort. All of us, together, as a team.” Tony pulled his hand down his face, feeling his age at this moment. Nothing like feeling mature and responsible compared to a being thousands of years old. Reasonability, thy name was Tony. 

He watched Loki’s grip on the wrench release and nonchalantly stroke her hair with that hand, like she wasn’t just contemplating throwing the tool at him. "What does our situation look like? For Vision and…” she waved a hand, “Everything?”

* * *

 

Vision watched from the bulkhead of the ship as all its airlocks opened. Apparently, there was some sort of killer on the ship. 

* * *

 

Tony made his way to the counter next to her and sat down on one of the stools. "Not good, but we’ll make it work,” he tapped his head, "I have a big brain for a reason—fixing big problems.”

Loki was looking down at her hands, rubbing her fingers together, her face pensive. "I have never been one for teams... I will try to help with it. Let me talk to Stane.”

Tony shook his head. "Don’t bother. He won’t, and I don’t approve of the magic glow stick in his head.”

Loki’s brow creased. "I would not do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re a new-and-improved Loki. No evil tendencies here,” Tony patted her back, “Don’t worry about Stane. I’ll get something worked out.”

“If you insist,” she replied, not looking up from her hands.

“I do,” Tony slid off the stool, "I’m going to go lay down. This old man needs a nap. Keep your nose clean.” 

He didn’t need to look to know that she either: a) rolled her eyes, b) crossed her arms, or c) both. He just knew. 

Tony pushed open the bedroom door and saw the pile of freshly dry cleaned clothes that Loki must have picked up for him. He would need to tell her that only certain things needed to be dry cleaned; track pants and a ratty t-shirt could just hit a regular washer and dryer—did they have a washer and dryer? Probably not. It wasn’t like he was in a position where he was washing his under armour clothes. 

He hung the clothes in his closet, spotting a small bag that contained any loose items he had left in his pockets when the clothes had been handed over. 

Tony spotted the embossed card.

Maybe May was right...

* * *

 

Clint sat down in his chair across from Stane’s home. He had snuck in and put microphones in every room possible in Stane’s New York home and office. The man’s phone had already been tapped by SHIELD ages ago, apparently. Not that anything had come of it. If Stane said anything sketchy, it wasn’t on the phone, and if he was communicating with anyone illegally, it was encrypted enough that SHIELD had failed to decrypt it. 

Fury didn’t know if the encryption software was Stark’s own design, and Fury wasn’t the kind of man to ask nicely. Instead, you got strong-armed into helping him, whether you liked it or not. Not that was a _bad_ thing. It usually ended up being for the best. 

Clint groaned. A week of watching this clown and he had done nothing blatantly illegal. It was _so_ boring. It had been only two hours since he had relieved the day team and he was already bored out of his mind. Nothing to do in this boring office building, except be a voyeur for a boring CEO. Ugh.

Why couldn’t Stark have had the decency to be living in California, instead of New York? He could have been watching Stane at night and hitting the beaches in the day. But, no, Stark needed to live in NYC and Stane had to be close to him, _apparently._ Didn’t Stark ever think about _Clint’s_ needs? 

Not that they knew each other, except from the party. It was weird being a known spy. Stupid Loki, he thought, viciously. 

The door behind him opened nearly silently and Clint watched the reflection as Fury and Rogers came into the room. No one said anything as Fury pulled a metal box from a bag and they all tossed their earpieces, phones, and anything that carried an electrical current into it before the box was locked and put in a distant corner. 

The master spy finished it off with pulling out a small object, roughly the size and shape of a pen, mainly because it looked like a pen. It was a sneaky pen. A pen in disguise. Okay, it was a signal jammer that extended 15 feet around them. 

“We finally going to talk about the skull-tentacles in the room?” Clint asked. 

Rogers shifted his weight, ignoring Clint’s comment. “What has Pierce said?” 

Fury sunk down into one of the chairs, his eye flickering between the screens of Stane’s New York apartments. “Pierce has said nothing, because he knows nothing.” 

Clint nodded and sat next to him, resting his chin on his hand. “Ah, the classic mushroom technique…” his brows furrowed together and he looked at his boss, “Wait, why are we keeping Pierce in the dark?”

“Mushroom?” Rogers asked.

“Kept in the dark and fed shit,” Clint and Fury responded in sync. 

Fury leaned back. "If I tell Pierce he has to take it higher up, which will put a target on his back and we risk the information getting leaked. We don’t know what kind of connections they have. We don’t even know anything about them. I’ll tell him when we have enough information to move on HYDRA.”

“So, it is HYDRA?” Clint asked, seeking confirmation that it was the big bad of ages past that was oh-so-very-scary.

Fury pulled out the folder out of his jacket, the one with the big HYDRA logo emblazoned on it and gave Clint a _Look_ ™. “Do you not see the damn skull with tentacles? Who else could it be?”

Clint shrugged. "Cthulhu enthusiasts?”

“H.P. Lovecraft fans with a secret underground Russian base?” Fury lightly slapped the top of Clint’s head with the file and Clint made no move to dodge. "Think before you speak.”

Steve sat on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed and face pensive. “I thought HYDRA was stopped during the war after I went under the ice. Peggy would have rooted them out.” 

Clint tried not to hold it against his handsomeness for not realizing that people might have failed. Golly gee willikers, who would have thunk it?

Fury gave Rogers a small nod. "I thought the same thing…” He turned to Clint. "Barton, you’re on Stane duty until you’re fully healed. Be prepared to drop it and come in if I call you.” Fury turned back to Rogers. "HYDRA liked magic glowing shit, right?”

Steve nodded. "Yes. Schmidt studied the Tesseract.”

“Something we have in common with him,” Clint muttered. Wait. Something in his brain stuck two and two together and managed to, correctly, come up with four. "You think they have someone on the inside? That they took Loki’s spear? Not Lady Loki, other Loki, _evil_ Loki.”

“An accurate summation of my feelings on the situation, minus the part where you imply that Stark’s Loki is not evil,” Fury retorted.

“She didn’t seem super evil at the party,” Clint shrugged, "Maybe dubiously diabolical, or wistfully wicked.”

Fury’s whole _body_ sighed, shoulders slumping and head flopping forward. "And you gathered that from one meeting at a party? Really, Clint? You determined that she was just a bit of a bitch and not a mass murdering psychopath I will swear she is.”

“I’m not a bad judge of character! Look at Natasha, we thought she was an evil Russian spy and then she came to work for us and she’s done a lot of good.”

“Up until she _died_.”

Clint held up his index finger. "Ah ah. We don’t know that that was the original Natasha.”

Rogers pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you two not get into this again? The last time this happened, it went on for thirty minutes.”

“Schrodinger’s Natasha,” Clint muttered. Classic Nat and New Nat were both the original Natasha and not at the same time in his mind and he would argue it for a long time. Star Trek, man. All the answers were there, even if Fury got angry and turned off the episode twenty minutes into it. It was _clearly_ a case of double Riker. 

Fury gave Clint a one-eyed glare. " _Anyways,_ it’s not just the sceptre that’s missing. There are other things that are gone.”

Rogers licked his lips and stared out the window to the setting sun. "It would have to be someone high ranking to get access to those. Someone smart, too, since they were able to purge the system.”

“Maybe like a spy who has turned up from the dead and has already won the trust of her former partner, despite being unable to prove she is who she says she is?”

Clint wagged his finger at Fury. "Brah. Nat is solid and I didn’t give her any of my access codes.”

“Then how did she find out the sceptre was missing?”

“That was a one-time accident, and it hasn’t happened before or since. I would know. I’ve been escorting myself everywhere and I haven’t done anything bad. _And,_ if I had done something bad, Natasha would have told me.”

Fury stared at him dumbfounded. “You’re killing me, Clint. Don’t you ever think about what you say?”

“You don’t look dead.”

Fury sighed for at least thirty seconds, which was really impressive.

Mister Business, also known as Steve Rogers, spoke up. “What’s our plan of attack?”

“You two will keep your noses clean and your ears open. _You,_ ” he pointed at Clint. "Will keep an eye on Natasha. Her portal was at the HYDRA bunker _and_ she was looking up the scepter.” Fury leveled a glare at Clint. “Which does not bode well.”

Clint nodded. "I will, but trust my Clinty-sense. She isn’t evil.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Fury replied, standing up and getting ready to leave. 

“It’s real to me.”

“Shut the fuck up and get to work.”

“Die,” Clint muttered, and turned back to the distant screens of Stane’s apartment. 

 


	11. Communal Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in the chapter appearing. Ended up wrestling with this one pretty hard... there were a few different drafts of this one (one of them being written before chapter 5 was even done) but thankfully my lovely beta who carries me through thick and thin, who drags my ass up the hill to yeet me off of it, my eri with the berry, the saint who helps me.... well she helped me like the amazing person she is. ily eri berri u my rock <3

Tony sunk into the deep mattress, the sheet sticking to his sweaty body. Gamora laid next to him with no evidence of exertion. Tony attempted to move and his pelvis cracked. His entire body was tense, locked into a seized muscle, he was raw and tender, reminiscent of that time he had been sucked into the Helicarrier blades.

Gamora was strong and limber, as her cybernetic augmentations boosted her endurance. His kingdom for a piece of nanotech. She didn’t notice how he had collapsed into the bed, becoming a boneless pile of meat. She also didn’t notice, or pretended not to notice, how he was old and perhaps couldn’t keep up the pace without worrying about a heart attack. Tony rubbed his neck where she had lightly bitten him when he had attempted to adjust the speed; she was dominant and refused to accept that though he was strong of mind, he may be weak of body.

Shifting into position, Tony released a small wheeze. She had been careful of his arm and other visible injuries, except for one brief moment where she had rested her hand on his sternum, or lack thereof. Gamora had been able to determine his moan was from pain and not pleasure and had removed it quickly before any damage had been done. 

Tony propped himself up, his spine cracking like a pianist was playing a glissando down his vertebrae. Gamora didn’t look tired or sore at all. She must have lived on planets with heavier gravity. It was the only explanation that wasn’t the fact that he was a weak, tender, and older human. 

This was the third time this week, and it was only Wednesday. Breathing hurt. 

In the back corner of his mind, Tony could feel his younger self rattling at the cages, a feral and horny teenager that had long ago grown up into the less feral version that was the Tony Stark of now.  _ Ow. _

He watched Gamora, a tablet in hand as she looked over his math regarding Titan and how much energy would be needed to send a message or two there.

“You’re a few light-years off the Galactic Center, but the strength of the broadcast through the wormhole shouldn’t matter. It’ll reach a few systems, and the encryption on the message should only be able to be broken by only a few AIs. And even then, I doubt they will care.”

Tony squinted at the numbers. Damn. He could crack time travel but not the exact Galactic Center? “How smart are the AIs out there? Best Earth has is JARVIS.” He tapped his fingernails against his teeth.

Gamora didn’t even look at Tony as she reached over him and placed the datapad on the side table. “Xandar has a decent one that could likely crack the encryption, but they won’t be looking anywhere near Titan. Same with the Sovereign, but they’re too conceited to notice a beam of information. The Shi’ar, maybe, but they won’t care. They have enough problems to deal with. The only one that could really crack it without a doubt would have been the Kree’s Supreme Intelligence, but it’s gone.” She looked at the back of her hand, idly flexing it.

“Clever name.”

She didn’t look up. “Not really.”

Whoosh. Right over her head. 

“The Kree… they were the ones who were fighting a war with Xandar, right? Nebula gave me a crash course about what the Guardians did.” Tony slid up into a sitting position. His sweaty hip probably felt weird to Gamora’s non-sweaty hip, but, hey. She wasn’t complaining.

Gamora nodded and began flipping through her phone. “Yes. They reached a peace treaty shortly before we had to stop Ronin.”

“Their Supreme Intelligence couldn’t figure out a way to win a war? I figured all AIs would be able to play four-dimensional chess.”

Gamora raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “They would have won the war if they had still retained it.”

Tony shifted further until he had his back pressed against the wall and was able to reach over his lovely, green partner for his post-coital glass of water that he thirstily gulped down. Gamora gave him a disturbed look at the noises he made. 

He offered her a bright grin. “Did someone infect it with a super strong virus and destroy it? That’s what I would do.” There was a vague hope she hadn’t watched Independence Day yet. 

“It was something more mundane.” She shifted to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “The Supreme Intelligence was stolen and given to my father.”

Tony’s brow furrowed into deep canyons. “Thanos has—had—a super smart AI.? And we still managed to beat him?” He shuddered. “I used to think we had moxie, but now I suspect Earth just has luck.”

“You’re not wrong.” Gamora got up and began to get dressed. “My father gambled poorly when he gave the Mind Stone to Loki.”

“What’s that have to do with—” There was some more furrowing, deep enough that his forehead might crack. “The Supreme Intelligence was the Mind Stone?”

Gamora nodded. “Nebula told you of Ronan the Accuser?” 

“Yeah,” Tony squinted as he pulled up the memory of him and Nebula sitting outside around a fire he had lit to keep warm during an autumn night, two years post snap. “Big Kree with a hammer who wanted to use the Power Stone to destroy Xandar.” 

“He stole the Mind Stone and gave it to my father in exchange for my father to cull Xandar.”

“Which he didn’t do.”

“It was on his to-do list. Not very high on it, but still there. In the middle, but on the lower half. Xandar was not some simple back-water planet he could fly up to and destroy half of. It was a highly militarized society that could provide a challenge. He never said  _ when _ he would do his culling.”

“Must have pissed off Ronan since he stole from his own people.” Did Thanos have an actual checklist of planets to cull? Damn. Dude was organized as fuck. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up a bit to give him an extra inch of height so he wouldn’t feel super short around her and Loki.

“Oh, it did.” Her eyebrows dipped and she gave the wall a long, thousand-yard stare. “And then, my father gave the stone to Loki, who lost it. Instead of having one stone, my father went back to no stones. He was  _ very _ angry.” Tony didn’t miss how Gamora absent-mindedly rubbed her right wrist. “Afterwards, Ronan betrayed him and attempted to keep the Power Stone. Just one of the many reasons why he wanted to kill Loki for their failure... though it is the main reason.” 

Tony rolled to the edge of the bed and began to dress, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “So, Vision is the Supreme Intelligence now?” Should he tell her the android formerly known as the Supreme Intelligence had a penchant for falling in love with younger metahumans? No, better not.

“Based on my observations of Vision, he was never as malicious as it was during its time as the Kree leader.”

“Ultron must have gotten that side of it.”

Gamore looked at him, puzzled. “What is Ultron?”

Tony slumped a bit. “Ultron was an AI that was created based off of data pulled from the Mind Stone. He went rogue and tried to kill humanity. I may or may not have been involved.” 

“And how does Vision factor into this?”

“Ultron made Vision as an upgrade, but failed to transfer his mind into the body. We tossed JARVIS in there and he combined with the Mind Stone to create our pink-ish robo-person whom we all know and love today.” Tony flopped back down onto the bed, his hip popping loudly. He really was falling apart. “That stone’s had quite the adventure... I wonder if Vision still has it. Did he have it in the other place?” he asked, looking at Gamora. 

Gamora shrugged and sat down in a chair, slipping her boots on. “I can’t recall. All those memories are beginning to blur together. I remember watching everyone who was living, but the interactions outside of that are… nebulous.” 

Why did Gamora have to use that word? Now, all he could think about was how he had been sleeping with Nebula’s sister. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to stop thinking about this before he needed to wash himself clean from the inevitable guilt of cradle-robbing. Subject change needed ASAP. Clearly, Vision had gotten his cradle robbing tendencies from Tony. 

Getting up and walking to his closet, he opened the door with a bang and started to flip through the suits before deciding on a grey one that wasn’t the colour of his conscience at the moment.

“So,” he said, drawing the word out, “I have this dinner tonight and I was going to go stag, but since you’ve been stuck up here for a bit… would you like to come with me? Pepper and Rhodey will be there.”

Gamora gave him a long look in the mirror. “Is that the best idea? Given your last interaction with her.” 

She had a valid point. He had been a hot mess,  _ but _ he was better now. Merely a lukewarm mess. Might even be a cold mess by the time midnight rolled around. “They’re just there in case I need an out. They might not even talk to me.”

Gamora’s expression said all he needed to know about what she thought of that. 

“Well, you know, outside of pleasantries.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Tony glowered. Where was she learning these things? “Anyways, do you want to go with me?”

“Is this to try to quell the rumours that you and Loki are dating?” she said, giving him an amused smile. 

He groaned. “No. “Even if Loki finds it amusing as hell, I don’t care about what the paps say.”

She gave him a decisive nod. “I will go with you to this dinner. I’ll ask Loki to choose something nice for me.”

##

Gamora sat between Tony and Pepper. All the people in the restaurant had turned to stare at them as they walked in, though now that they were secluded away into a corner booth, no one paid them any mind. She was getting used to the looks from the Terrans here; she was taller than them, greener than them. It was fine, though her head nearly hit a dangling chandelier on the way in. If it wasn’t for her augmentations, it would have been hard to see in the dimly lit place. The humans near her likely couldn’t see the subtle hues of crimson and teal that formed a mural of a tree on a wall—reminiscent of a club in Knowhere, but infinitely cleaner and with much more polite people. The servers didn’t even spit in anyone’s drink. Earth was so odd; the street outside was filthy, but inside, it was spotless. Why did they not put an effort into the exterior? There were more than enough humans to clean the area. 

Initially, the conversation had been on broad discussions of human customs, where they introduced Gamora to several different forks, but then Tony and Justin Hammer had begun to talk in low whispers. 

The two were caught up in the discussion of contracts, exclusivity, access to anything Stark wanted, and NDAs, whatever those may be. 

Rhodes and Pepper had attempted to bring her into their conversation. Pepper asked if she had been able to visit the city of Malibu, if she had gone to the beach, gone shopping, did she get to meet Happy, does she want to go back, how is Loki managing, how is Tony managing, what’s space like, are those just her cheek bones or is it metal? 

It was a rather long and stilted inquisition, given there was still little she knew of Terra outside of the movies and television shows she had been watching that were nearly four decades out of date. 

Pepper barely knew who Kevin Bacon was outside of an actor who you tried to be within “six degrees of,” as Pepper had called it. Rhodes insisted she watch Tremors and Flatliners. Apparently, they were perfectly cheesy. 

He didn’t have an answer as to why the movies were about cheese. 

There was a brief moment where she and Rhodes spoke of the Highlander. He informed her that the actor was a Frenchman pretending to be a Scotsman and his mentor was a Scotsman pretending to be an Egyptian pretending to be a Spaniard. None of those words made sense. 

They had eventually moved on to a more accessible conversation about the food they had eaten. They asked about the human foods she had tried on Earth. Phad Thai was still her favourite, but she didn’t much care for many of the heavy and creamy foods this place served. There was a look of shock from Rhodey when she had mentioned spaghetti was horribly crunchy and not worth anyone’s time. Same with hard boiled eggs. Too much crunch. The man had looked as though he was about to keel over, like a post-coital Stark. 

At the moment, Pepper was holding Rhodes’ cellphone and the three of them were watching a commercial where the words were replaced with different ones. It was quite humorous. Quill would enjoy them. Quill would enjoy Rhodes company as well. Rhodes was, as Tony would say, “cool.”

She tapped a finger against the screen, pausing the video. “If this Oxy Clean is as good as the video makes it out to be, I should arrange for Loki to purchase some. I know many people who need clean clothes.” Her eyes darted over to Stark who was actually clean at the moment. “It certainly seems more affordable than the,” she bit her lip as she tried to remember the phrase, “dry cleaners? Loki has mentioned that would be a way to cut expenses.”

Pepper’s brows furrowed slightly, and she leaned close to Gamora. “Is Tony having money issues?” she whispered.

There was a moment of unintended panic as Gamora thought about how Pepper and Rhodey did not know the situation with Tony and Stane or Tony’s desire to build his Iron Man armour which was, according to Loki, “fucking expensive.” She had no clue as to why so many standard materials were expensive on this planet, but Gamora got the point. 

“Er—” She glanced at Stark, who was nodding his head along to whatever Hammer was saying He was completely oblivious. “No?”

The two pairs of raised eyebrows from Rhodes and Pepper said they did not believe her. Perhaps Loki would teach her how to lie, since Thanos had valued honesty in his children. Gamora exhaled a breath through her nose. 

“—draw up a contract and send it over and I’ll look it over. If everything is up to snuff, we can get this transfer going in less than two weeks.” Tony said to Hammer, finally above a whisper, enough that the rest of the table could hear. 

Tony and Hammer turned back towards the rest of the group, small smiles on their faces. 

“Hey, that video sounded pretty good. Let me see,” Tony said, gesturing for the phone to be slid across the table towards him and Justin Hammer. 

Thankfully, Gamora noticed no awkwardness between Tony and Pepper, as if the two had decided to put the night of the party behind them and refuse to acknowledge it. Like that night Quill had asked her to finger his ass, but decided he did not like it.

Pepper slid the phone over and the two men huddled close to watch it together, laughing at the outrageous claims in the dubbed video. 

Humans definitely seem to like their humour. 

“Well, it seems like the two of you have worked it out,” Pepper said with a smile. 

Tony gave Hammer’s back a cheerful slap. “I think so. Justin, you’re a bit of a weenie but you’re alright. We could all do with some weenies.”

Hammer chuckled. “Oh, shush. We know you’re only after me for my good looks and money.” 

“Shhh, Justin-boo, shhh.” Tony held a finger up to Hammer’s lips. “Some of us dig for gold in different places.”

Rhodes smiled at the antics between the two men. “Well, I think Peps and I are going to head off for the night. Gamora, you can chaperone these two and make sure they behave, right?”

“I can tie them to separate chairs and threaten to cut out their tongues if they say anything untoward to one another.” She had once threatened to do that to Rocket and Quill and they had promptly behaved for once. The look on her face at the time had been angry enough that they knew she was serious.

Pepper gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Rhodes gave her a thumbs up. “Let’s make that a last resort, but I trust you to do what you think is best.”

Gamora spun the knife on the table and returned Rhodes’ thumbs up gesture. 

The couple bid their goodbyes—hugs for Stark and firm handshakes for Gamora. They were lucky she had watched a television show which said to  _ not _ crush peoples hands. Hammer and Stark continued their discussions of patents and legal something or others. Frankly, she would rather watch Drax attempt to turn invisible, as far as forms of entertainment went.

She decided to play the little game on her phone with the jewels. About to swipe the winning move of her tenth game that night, Gamora stilled when she saw the approach of three, imposing men in black suits. Gamora had seen thugs all across the galaxy—she had even been one—and the look these three were giving her said they were in for some trouble. It didn’t help that she recognized them as Stane’s bodyguards. Two of them were taller than her. 

Gamora elbowed Tony a bit harder than she should have given his sudden wheezing and pained look. 

“What was that for?” he hissed, holding his ribs.

Gesturing with her chin and taking the knife she had spun for Rhodes, she held it loosely beneath the table, more than ready to bury it into the men’s vulnerable bodies. 

Tony’s head whipped around in a display of extreme lack of subtleness and he stared at the three men as they approached. His spine became ramrod straight and Gamora saw him palm a knife from the table as well. 

“Mister Stane would like to speak to you,” the man in front said and passed Justin Hammer his cell phone.

“Oh, hey there, Obie!” Hammer said in a cheerful and semi-oblivious tone. He shot Tony and Gamora a smile and wink. 

“Hello, Justin.” They could hear Stane through the speaker. “Do you mind if I borrow Tony? I think he and I have to talk about a non-compete clause if he’s meeting you here in secret.” It was said jovially enough, but it wasn’t really a question. Not even for Hammer. 

Hammer went to pass the phone to Tony, but one of the men put a hand out, blocking him. “He would like to see Mister Stark in person.” 

Hammer put the phone back to his ear with a frown. “If you must, Obie, but I want you to know that I have a very competitive offer that you will find hard to beat. I want Tony on Team Hammer and I won’t stop until I have him.”

“Tony will have to be the judge of that. Thanks for your time, Justin.” The sound from the phone cut off and the guard took the phone back, pocketing it.

“We should get going.” Gamora tightened her grip on her knife as the man put a hand on Stark’s shoulder, squeezing it until Tony visibly winced. “Miss Loki is there and waiting for us to join her.”

Gamora tensed at that, despite her efforts to not visibly show her worries. How did Stane have Loki? What happened? A closer look at the men showed that one had a forming bruise on the side of his face. How had Stane managed to take Loki hostage? 

Hammer looked between Stark and men, clearly sensing something was off, but unsure of what to do. “Tony, you can just give me a call when you’ve wrapped up.” 

Tony gave him a nod, not actually looking at Hammer. “Sure, sure.” 

Tony and Gamora slowly stood in tandem. She pulled herself up to her full height, eye-to-eye with the guards, and glared. Before she left this planet, she was going to kill them. 

Hammer promised he would get the check, and they left the rather adorable human alone at the table. Gamora risked glancing back while Tony marched on, the two of them flanked by Stane’s men. Hammer’s brows were furrowed, but he gave her a small wave. She offered a small, stiff smile in response. 

Feeling the reassuring presence of the blade in her pocket, she let Tony climb into the vehicle first and glanced at the three men. Gamora could defeat them without an issue if it came to blows. Tony, on the other hand, she was worried about—despite Stark acting as if he was immune to damage, he was extremely vulnerable without his armour.

The largest man took a seat across from them, as the vehicle had facing seats. The other two bracketed Tony and Gamora, pushing them close together between their massive muscles. She counted at least eighteen different ways she could easily kill them. It would be really simple to break the ribs of the one next to her.

“I wouldn’t do anything rash if I was you,” the man across from them said. “Those little knives will only be a death sentence for your friend if you draw them.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he showed them a picture of Loki.

Male Loki. 

Tony swore.

##

Stane sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed and a look of disapproval on his brows. There was a scratch on his cheek.

The guards had guided Gamora away and into a darkened room, pointing guns at her. She looked absolutely bored as she entered the room. He didn’t doubt that she could escape with ease and leave a bloody trail her in wake.

Tony was pushed further down the hallway until he reached Stane’s office. One of the men shoved Tony down into a chair facing Stane’s desk. Tony yearned to snatch one of the guns and escape with Gamora and Loki but he probably wouldn’t survive being shot by the other guards. He suspected Loki and Gamora would though. Probably. 

Damn, he wished they hadn’t been split up. That he could see them. He had nothing for defence or offence. The guards had taken their knives as they exited the car, as though it would reduce Gamora’s threat level. Assholes. It certainly reduced Tony’s threat level.

Loki wasn’t in the room. He wanted to ask where Loki was. What Stane had done. How they had caught Loki  _ in flagrante delicto. _ What Stane knew. Maybe he could explain it away if Stane had shown up at Stark Tower and accidentally stumbled upon Loki. Maybe Loki already had. He wished Loki was here. Loki was very good at sending nonverbal messages via facial expressions. Mainly death threats. 

Tony’s mind raced at all the possibilities, at what Stane may or may not know, the different excuses and explanations he could use to explain the situation away, because Stane having evidence of Loki being, well, Loki, was not good. It was bad. It was very bad. They might be able to spin it into the other Loki somehow being an imposter. 

Tony looked back at Stane when he slowly started to shake his head. “Tony, Tony, Tony,” Stane said with a flourish in his voice. “Always up to some sort of trouble. Why couldn’t you have just been a good boy? Didn’t I give you everything you needed? Enough money, a home for you and your aliens? I even let you have that little party so you could make your ‘connections.’” Stane did the air quotes there, and Tony felt a flash of anger at being mocked _. _ “Going to the competition?  _ Justin Hammer? _ All you had to do was tinker away and nothing would happen. I was fine with sitting on Loki’s… secret identity, but then you pulled this.” Stane gave him a pitying and patronizing look. “You really know how to look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

A lead ball sunk into the pit of Tony’s stomach. He attempted to press on like nothing was too wrong. “If you’d had the decency to go through the paperwork and make sure I wasn’t still marked as dead, we could have—”

“But Tony, you are dead.” Stane said in a well-what-do-you-know voice, cutting Tony off. He picked up a tablet from his desk and turned it to Tony. A video started playing. 

Tony clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he watched. The back of his mouth began to salivate with that pre-vomit feeling. 

It was a video of him. Dead, chest open and bloody. It was the cave in Afghanistan, people speaking over one another. One voice cut through the din, Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar. Tony hadn’t thought about him in years, but sometimes still heard him in his dreams. Raza demanding answers and Yinsen yelling. 

Tony turned away. He couldn’t stand the sight. Killed by his own weapons. How close had he been to being  _ that _ Tony? A meter? Two? Or was it millimeters? Did a piece of shrapnel avoid  _ his _ heart, but hit this reality’s Tony? 

He tried to focus on something else. Escape. He was used to that. One door behind him, a second floor glass window that was likely bulletproof, three guards and Stane, plus who knew how many others were in the building.

“We also managed to get the body. It was at the bottom of a cave system, but the DNA matches so we have evidence to imply you’re an imposter. The fact that you’re… older, a little more rugged, and possessing _ all _ that knowledge, as well as Loki, a god known for deceit, whom you have been hiding away...” Stane smiled and shook his head. “The options are endless. It’s interesting to know there are alternate realities out there. That people can be pulled from one and placed in another. I had initially thought you were a Skrull, a clone, hell, even a hologram. But an actual Tony Stark from a timeline where you had died later? One of the so-called Avengers?” He let out a bark of laughter and got out of his chair, approaching him. He handed the guard on Tony’s right a knife. 

The guards clamped down on Tony’s shoulders as he struggled to pull away. “Get off me!” One of them held his left shoulder and wrist. The other put the blade at the edge of Tony’s right jacket sleeve and began cutting upwards, revealing the arm that had been damaged during his Snap. The lines were less pronounced than they had been when he had initially come through, but they were still raw, and the guard’s blade has nicked the skin. He saw blood well up in some places—not that he could feel it.

They peeled away the shirt and jacket until Tony’s arm and shoulder were exposed completely, revealing the wound travelling up his body. 

Stane ran his hand up Tony’s arm slowly, fingers tracing the scars that marred his skin. Up his forearm, then his bicep, rotating it around to see every bit. 

Tony struggled when it felt like Stane was going to pop it right out of his socket, to pull his arm away, to smash the back of his head into the guards nose, but he was held tightly down, barely able to squirm.

He watched Stane squeeze, prod, pinch and poke his feelingless limb. When Stane reached Tony’s shoulder where the nerves lived, his touch became light, gentle—everything Obadiah wasn’t. He felt like a piece of meat, appraised dispassionately for damage and value. He hated it. He hated Stane.  

“Get your hands off me.” No one touched him like this. No one touched him. He didn’t want his godfather’s murderous hands on him. Tony tried not to flinch at each jab.

The corner of Stane’s mouth twitched up, and he grasped Tony’s throat, resting the heel of his hand on Tony’s collarbone. “I don’t know how to explain this to you, Tony, but I  _ own _ you. I own you, I own Gamora, I own Loki, I own Stark Industries, and if you  _ ever _ ,” he squeezed Tony’s throat hard and held it until his vision began to go black on the edges, “try something like you did today, I’ll hand you over to some people who would want nothing more than to take you and your friends apart. They’ve been champing at the bit for weeks. And I won’t just stop at the aliens.”

Stane released his throat and Tony gasped for air, his vision returning as oxygen rushed to his brain.

“I have to say, I was surprised you managed to marry Pepper where you came from. She is so much more level-headed than you. Less impulsive.” Stane slid his hands into his pockets, as if those hands hadn’t just almost killed him.

Tony coughed and wheezed. The guards released him when Stane moved out of his reach. “What do you want?”

Stane had made his way over to a cabinet and pulled out a decanter, pouring himself two fingers worth of scotch. God, Tony would love to drink that right now. Anything to reduce the stress. 

“That’s a loaded question. Do any of us actually know what we want? What I want from you is new technology, new ideas. I will admit that killing the Tony we had here was a bit of a mistake. I’ve seen some of what you’ve drawn up in the tower. Pity you’re so stingy on the details. I would love to start work on your arc reactor designs.”

Tony bared his teeth, his anger bubbling to the top. “How? How do you know? We removed all the microphones. I fixed JARVIS. I disabled the recording on the closed circuit cameras.” How could he have been bested by Stane? How could he have been so foolish?

Stane smiled. “The trick was to let you find the obvious, then you would fail to look deeper than the surface level. Anyone who’s stayed in Stark Tower has seen the surveillance. They know they’re being listened to and even if they find and disable it, there’s always redundancies. We have you and your little harem talking about all sorts of things. You’re not as subtle as you think.” Stane tilted his head, his neck cracking loudly. “Now, what we’re going to do is send you home to Malibu. Nice and secluded away from anyone and anything that might give you the wrong ideas.” He took a sip of his scotch. “I will keep one of your friends and you can keep one to keep up appearances and for a bit of help.”

Tony balled his hands into fists, aching to start swinging. To do  _ something _ .

A hostage. Again. Humiliating.

“You want weapons.”

“Obviously.” Stane picked up his tablet and began to swipe through it. “Only things I approve of.”

His demands reminded Tony of SHIELD’s own requests for him to look over projects. Tony had finished the write-up for two of them; the other was still on the drawing board. A bit of hope bloomed in his chest. SHIELD would certainly come looking for him. Right?

That hope was quickly extinguished as he remembered HYDRA was still active. Fuck.

“I won’t make you weapons. I haven’t been an arms dealer for fifteen years.”

“Sounds like a problem for one of your friends. I want to see what made you an Avenger where you’re from. I want to know all the threats you faced. I want everything and I will bleed your friends dry for it.” Stane looked lazily over at one of the guards. “Get Loki.” 

One of the guards left. 

Tony’s breath stilled at the opportunity. Thinking quickly, Tony lunged to his right, pulling the guards gun out of his holster, cocking it and firing it over Stane’s head, hitting the windows. The sound of cracking glass filled the room. “Don’t any of you move!” He stood up and backed away towards the oaken door, his gun never wavering from Stane’s head.

There was the sound of a gun cocking. The room stilled. Stane held his glass of scotch loosely, the guard who Tony had disarmed stood there with his hands raised, and the other had drawn and was pointing his gun at Tony. 

“That was just a warning shot. You’re going to let Loki and Gamora out and we’re all just going to go. Or I shoot your boss and then you.” 

Stane tapped the edge of his glass and looked… disappointed? 

“I’m not afraid to die,” Tony snarled, his heart feeling like it was going to jump out of his chest. He had miscalculated. Stane’s look of disappointment did not bode well. He recognized that look from watching Stane out-maneuver many a CEO in the boardroom.   

“That’s you. What about them?” Stane gestured with his chin in the direction of where Gamora had been dropped off. “Maybe they want to live. Weren’t they both  _ murdered _ ?”

There was a sound of scuffling in the hallway and the door opened with two guards half dragging, half pushing Loki into the room, both had their guns trained on her. Her clothes were torn, her knuckles bloody. The bridge of her nose had an open wound. Somehow, she still managed to look dignified and cast a glance around the room that spoke of how beneath her this was.

“Tony, put the gun down,” Stane said gently. “You don’t want your friends getting hurt right?”

“Loki can handle herself.” He tightened his grip on the gun. Natasha would kill him for his poor stance if she saw it. 

“So be it,” Stane muttered, giving the guards holding her a hard look. Tony couldn’t move fast enough.

A shot rang out, followed by a scream of pain. Loki was on the ground, clutching her abdomen. Blood slowly began to stain her shirt. 

“Asshole!” Tony squeezed a shot off, missing Stane again. Fuck, he needed to work on his unassisted aim.

The disarmed guard tackled Tony to the ground, the sudden impact knocking the air from his well-abused lungs. The gun was kicked from his hands, which were yanked behind his back as the guard straddled and held him down.

Tony turned his head to Loki, who was staring at him with pained, green eyes. “I thought you could dodge bullets! You’re magic!” 

“Point blank is a little hard!” Loki snapped, breath hitching before moaning in pain.

Stane approached, and to Tony’s broken sense of humor, dropped down into a slav squat. He gripped Tony’s hair and lifted his head to make eye-contact. “There’s guns on Gamora, there’s guns on Loki, guns on you, and I can make sure your little spy friend has guns on her. Not to mention Pepper and Rhodey.” 

“Eat shit.” Tony spat into Stane’s face. His jaw trembled with resentment from years of repressed rage, rage that he hadn’t been able to express—the betrayal and hurt he had experienced at the hands of his  _ godfather. _ He had trusted Obadiah unconditionally and yet again he was here, under his thumb. Again.

Stane let go of his head and wiped the spittle off, completely nonchalant. “Which one do you want to take with you to Malibu? I’m not an unreasonable man. Loki or Gamora?”

Tony twisted his neck to look at Loki. 

The goddess on the floor made the briefest of eye contact before looking away, a grimace twisting her face as a wave of pain seemingly shot through her. 

Tony weighed the choices, mind flashing through outcomes and possibilities as quick as he could. “Gamora.” He dropped his head to the floor and whispered, “Send Gamora to Malibu.” 

There was a sharp pain at the base of his neck, followed by a sudden pressure. One of the guards had injected him with something.

Stane stood up to his full height and wiped his hands, as if they were dirty from touching Tony. But that might have been from the spit, Tony noted hysterically. 

“You’re going to go to sleep now and when you wake up… well.” He smiled cooly. ”Let’s just say I am expecting results.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eri and I just wanted to thank y'all for the comments and interest in the fic. We cherish each one <3


	12. JARVIS Says No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Bit of body trauma, blood, shock therapy, mouthwash
> 
> I want to express my love and affection for my beta eri who will stay up until 3am arguing the semantics about a phrase, bashing her head against the wall until giving it up and fixing it herself. :> love you boo bear

Tony watched as the sun sat in the middle of the horizon. It painted the sky pinkish-gold and stained the water with purple. 

It wasn’t outstanding. It was nice, though. And familiar.

His head throbbed in rhythm with the white-crested waves as they fell on one another. Once, the sound would have soothed him to sleep. Now, all it did was make the pressure behind his eyes throb with pain. 

He lifted his arm to pinch the bridge of his nose but it was too heavy, as if a lead sheet had been laid over it while he had been asleep. Tony attempted to lift his head, and it felt much the same except for a stinging pain at the base of his skull. He let it fall back into the pillow. 

“Are you awake?” asked a groggy voice from his right.

Tony’s eyeballs swiveled from the window and towards the right side of the bed. Loki laid next to him on the bed, her face ashen and bruised. She still wore the bloody clothes he had seen her in last. 

Memories of last night's events crashed to the forefront of his mind. Obadiah’s confrontation stood out from the others. 

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

The view, the room—it was the Malibu house. He struggled through the heaviness of his limbs to sit up and take in the situation better. His back hurt in a way that was more unfamiliar, like it was a giant, sore bruise.

It was hard to think. 

Loki blinked languidly at him. Her green eyes were hazy and not quite focused on him. She looked as drugged up as he felt. Blood stained her white shirt and hands that rested on her abdomen. For some reason, Tony focused on those hands with long fingers and beautifully manicured, but fractured, nails that were folded on top of each other. It was how an overly proper woman from the 50’s would sit while holding her purse. 

It was so…demure. Everything Loki wasn’t. The juxtaposition of those bloody hands resting over a blood-soaked shirt— 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at them, but one minute the room was lit by the setting sun, and the next it was dark. 

“Are you okay?” Tony croaked out through dry lips.

“I think so.” She didn’t move. 

“How long have you been awake? How long was I out? What happened?” He could kill for a glass of water, although in his current state, all he could do was paw at a potential victim before collapsing on them. 

Leaning over Loki, he nearly collapsed on her, and turned the bedside lamp on to illuminate the room in a cool light. He glanced at Loki. 

Loki looked like shit, with dark bags under her eyes and hair matted with blood.

“I—” She licked her lips, but there was no moisture. “I woke up when they were taking us out of the plane and into a truck…I think it was before sunrise. I don’t know, time has been moving slowly since they injected me again.” Loki’s bottom lip had cracked open and blood ran down her chin. 

Tony grasped the edge of his untorn sleeve and wiped it away. He felt a misplaced sense of amusement at the fact that it wasn’t ichor. 

“Your wound? Are you okay?” There wasn’t much that could keep a god down, but a gut shot would still hurt, at the very least. 

Loki nodded slowly. “It’s mostly healed. Still hurts.” She paused. “I think they used me for sparring practice.” 

Tony started inching his way to the edge of the bed. He was damn thirsty, and Loki probably used up some energy healing herself like she did. They could deal with Stane after they felt better than death warmed up. Standing up on shaking legs and nearly collapsing once, he made his way into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He cupped his hands beneath the cool stream, and drank directly from them. 

Tony drank until he felt like he was going to vomit.

He gripped the edges of the counter and looked in the mirror. They must have got some hits in while he was unconscious based on the bruises on his face and what he could see of his chest. A long, shallow cut went up his right arm where they had sliced his shirt open. 

Tony looked away. He was a mess. Again. 

On the vanity was a full bottle of mouthwash. That would work. He gripped the lid, and twisted it off. The bottle fell from his shaking hands, spilling its contents into the sink. He let it until it stopped draining and poured the rest down. 

His hands shook as he rinsed and filled it with water to bring to Loki.

He made his way back out, resting against the wall when his legs began to shake. What the hell did they inject them with? Loki seemed in an even worse state than him, though from the sound of it, they were forced to give her a higher dose to keep her down.

Tony sat down heavily on the bed next to Loki and poured a thin trickle of water into her mouth. He didn’t want to accidentally waterboard her. She’d probably kill him. 

Her right cheek was swollen and the color of a deep purple and blue bruise that hadn’t been there last night. When she swallowed, the skin opened minutely, revealing a hidden cut on the bruise.

Maybe they did use her as a punching bag. Fucking Stane. 

Wait— 

Tony put the bottle down and looked around the room. “Where’s Gamora?”

He rubbed his eyes, in the vain hope that it would speed up his thoughts. All it did was exacerbate the pressure in his head. 

“I don’t know,” Loki whispered. 

“She’s with me.” Stane’s voice boomed through the room. 

Tony nearly knocked the bottle of water over as he covered his ears from Stane’s auditory assault. Loki flinched and turned her head to the side, protecting at least one ear.

He did a double take when he saw the back of Loki’s head. There was a shaved patch of hair and a wound that had been  _ stapled _ . What was going on?

“Why?” Tony croaked out, his voice breaking. He couldn’t make sense of anything. He had told Stane to send Gamora here… hadn’t he?

There was a flickering of light in the room, and several small spotlights lit up and began to project a hologram of Stane. Tony hadn’t known holotech had advanced this far. Stane looked unchanged from yesterday, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and a damned, smug smile on his lips. 

“Well, I know you said to send Gamora with you, but then I thought about it, and if we want to keep up appearances, which  _ I _ do, then you need to keep your assistant and I get to keep the bodyguard type.”

“She’ll kill you.” 

The hologram chuckled. “I doubt it. If I die, all of you die. A little failsafe I had built. If my heart stops, a microbomb I’ve had implanted in each of you goes off and kills you. Any of you try to remove them and it will donate remotely. Tony, if you try to escape, I kill Loki, and trust me, it will take out someone of their resilience. Loki, if you try to escape, I will kill you.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a cold glee. “Although, given your state right now it may be awhile before you can attempt anything.”

Loki didn’t move a muscle. Her expression didn’t change in the least. All she did was continue to look away from Stane. 

“Tony, be the productive, little scamp I know you are and get to work on some designs. As long as you do so, everyone will be fine. And, I must reiterate, don’t try anything. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” 

The hologram faded from existence, leaving Tony and Loki alone. 

“Fucker,” Tony muttered and turned to Loki. 

She hadn’t moved, hands still folded, still looking into the distance. Tony lightly touched the cut at the back of her head and pretended to not see her flinch. 

There was an irregular bulge there. 

Reaching to the back of his head, he felt the bulge there. He pressed on it a bit harder than he would Loki’s. His fingertips slowly explored the area, feeling the sprawling connectors holding it in place underneath his skin, feeling the staples in his scalp pinching the skin together. 

This was sick. Stane was sick. 

Tony pressed a bit deeper, wondering how deep it was. Had it been connected directly to the bone?

A sharp yelp and Loki spasmed, her body twisting in pain to the point where her spine arched and it looked like she was nearly levitating off the bed. 

And as quick as it came, it stopped. 

Loki collapsed fully on the bed, her gaze distant and bottom lip trembling, the cut on it having opened again. Blood oozed out. 

“What the—”

Tony had begun to reach out to her when Stane’s voice boomed through the room again. 

“Consider that a warning. Touch them again and it will be much worse.”

Tony stared at his hands. It felt like the carpet had been pulled out from under him—under  _ them. _ Things had been moving slowly, but he never thought Stane would move against him so underhandedly. He had them all under his grip. 

Jesus Howard Hughes Christ. 

He tossed a look back at Loki. She hadn’t moved much. If this was how he and Loki were, was Gamora in a worse situation or better? Tony didn't want Gamora to have to survive another murdering egomaniac—it was why he had chosen Loki to remain with Stane. Loki could undermine him, maybe kill and replace him, play the sort of head games that made lesser heads spin right off. Everyone knew Loki could hide their feelings, but Gamora, outside of the stoicism she wore, was an open book.

##

Vision, for once, was having a good day. 

The Chitauri that had been in the ship, were no longer in the ship, having been blown out the airlock. No one was on the Q-ship—except for him. 

The only unfortunate thing for the day was the damage to the engines. 

##

Clint sped up the video feed that focused on Stane’s office. One second the glass was whole, and the next, there were cracks. Clint knew what cracked, bulletproof glass looked like, and this was definitely it, but the footage from the other night showed no impact, no falling bullet, no muzzle flash, nothing. 

He hadn’t been on watch that night, and tonight he had seen the telltale cracks on the north facing window on his way to fix a few of the parabolic microphones. His injuries from the explosion had forced him to wait until morning instead of parkouring back to the surveillance hub.

The microphones hadn’t picked up anything last night or the night before. He had checked the audio feed for each mic for both and there were only boring conversations about Stark Enterprises and the Air Force contract. 

Who had tried to take a potshot at Stane, and why the hell wasn’t it on video?

Something was afoot and he wanted to defoot it. 

On the night he had been off, a large SUV pulled into the underground garage, and a few hours later, it had left. No new voices or discussion regarding it had come up. Maybe it was just the cleaners? Cleaners with really expensive, black SUVs? He could only wish.

Clint pulled up the footage of the SUV and backtracked it using traffic cameras. Just where did Mister SUV come from? One street, two street, red street, blue str—the footage changed. All the parked cars had mostly remained where they were, but the ones on the road did not contain a black SUV. 

The footage was spliced.

He cocked his head to the side. It had only been the other night and the footage was already altered? How? Who? Why? No one knew about this surveillance post or that Stane was being watched.

Clint ignored the voice in his head telling him they were compromised and deeply so.

Going forward to when the SUV left the building, he followed it for one, two, three streets and the video was spliced again. 

He pursed his lips and checked all the cameras he could, but it seemed at a four-block radius last night… things changed. The only thing he knew for certain was that the SUV had come in from one direction and then left the other. He jotted down the license plate, downloaded the content to a private server, erased his history and sat around, waiting for his replacement to come in soon. 

He ruminated. Either Stane knew he was being watched or an ally of his did. If the agent who had been watching the previous night decided to check the footage, there wouldn’t be any discrepancies between what they saw and what was recorded. They would appear on the recording, and couldn’t be backtracked. 

This was not good. He was going to tell Fury—who he really wanted to tell, though, was Natasha. She was his sounding board, his dart board, his scrabble board, and he had thought he had lost his board last year, but now she was back. He wasn’t going to look a gift Russian in the mouth.

He tossed up his mental white board and started to list the pros and cons of telling Nat as well as Fury. 

Pro: He’d tell her and she could start thinking about it. too. 

Con: Nat might be a secret HYDRA clone and/or spy; Rogers would give him the puppy-dog sad face if he found out; Fury would kill him if  _ he _ found out; Fury would kill him  _ when _ he found out. Laura and the kids would miss him. He’d be dead. And unemployed. 

Clint really couldn’t see the disadvantages outweighing the advantages.

Anyways, if she was a secret HYDRA agent, why would she reveal the scepter was missing? Checkmate, Fury. 

Sure, she may have appeared out of thin air at a hidden HYDRA bunker, stole an already stolen jet, intercepted him and Rogers during a secret mission, and snuck onto the plane without alerting them so she could talk to her friends first, but that was just how Nat was. Extra. Clint could respect that. It was like being a highly trained marksman and only using bows instead of guns. 

Twiddling his thumbs, he continued to weigh the options. He decided that if he saw Nat first, he would  _ maybe _ mention the Stane situation and  _ maybe _ ask if she has any insight, via Stark, perhaps. 

He switched off with his relief and made his way to the New York SHIELD offices that were definitely not underground and really cool and techy with glass walls. Because that would be cool. Literally. 

Clint shivered as he entered Fury’s office, the glass wall turning a semi-opaque frosty-white when he closed the door. At least the chill felt sort of nice to his numerous bruises.

Fury gave him a long look, and Clint signed to Fury to use the frequency jammer and waited to speak until it was activated. 

Fury raised his visible eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting?” The unasked question was, ‘What happened that you needed to come to me right after? Because now I’m worried.’

Clint sat down across from him. “Something fucky is going on. I don’t even know what’s going on, but I know shenanigans when shenanigans are happening.” 

He explained about the window and the spliced footage, and how he didn’t know if it was just the footage from that night or if it was more insidious. Neither of them truly knew the agent who had been assigned to watch the other night, and Clint was only there because Fury was mad at him and he was injured. If he hadn’t been there, this might have flown under the radar. 

This was officially a problem for someone else. Hopefully. 

Fury leaned back into his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “This is bad.” 

“Do you think Stane is…ya’ know…one of them?”

Fury didn’t say anything. His eye focused on the empty space in front of him, as though he was trying to untie the Gordian Knot with his mind. 

“Keep your head down. Go get some rest.” 

Clint knew when he was being dismissed, because Fury was blatant like that, and he was completely okay with it. Those gears were turning—something bad was going to happen to someone, somewhere, and he was happy it wasn’t going to be him. 

Fucking shenanigans. Either Stane had some sort of auto-scrambling tech in a radius around his New York home that messed with even the most encrypted equipment—unlikely—illicit connections inside of SHIELD—likely—or even to the big skull and tentacle monster protecting him—sort of likely, but hopefully not.

He made his way to the change room and changed, as one did in a change room, and was starting to make his way out when he was accosted by his platonic-brought-back-to-life partner. 

“Still hiding how you got those bruises?” Natasha asked, poking the largest, purplest, swollenest one on his chin. 

“Ow, rude, and yes.” Clint stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing down here? Thought you were in Kiev.”

“Finished up last night, got off the jet about an hour ago. Still a bit wired, so Coulson asked me to go and bully Stark about those projects he wanted him to look at. Want to come with?” She bounced on the balls of her feet, looking much lighter and cheerful than she had been before Natasha Classic™ had died. It was nice.

A small shrug and they were on their way, taking the subway up to Stark tower and ignoring security as they expertly snuck to the penthouse via some totally real credentials. 

SHIELD would most definitely not allow forgery in their operations. Or illegal spy satellites. Or a whole other host of morally questionable things.

The elevator opened onto the silent penthouse. He wanted to see the lady Loki—Lady Loki; Clint congratulated himself on his naming skills—call Natasha some other kind of spider she definitely not…like a peacock spider. Oh, Nat… the only bright thing outside of her hair was her mind. 

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he sniffed. “Well, this place certainly smells lived in.” 

Natasha shook her head. “Do any of those three look like the type to take out a bag of garbage or even know where the trash chute is?”

Clint shrugged. “I love trash chutes. No one expects to get pulled into a booby-trapped one.”

Natasha didn’t rise to the bait. 

She called out to Stark, Loki, and Gamora and failed to receive a response. “JARVIS, where is Tony?”

“Telling you their exact location would be a violation of my operating parameters, but Mister Stark, Miss Gamora, and Miss Loki have gone out of town. Their itinerary has them being away for several days. Is there a way I can assist you, Miss Romanov?”

“No. I think I know where it is. Thanks, JARVIS.” She turned on her heel and headed towards a hallway. Clint followed. 

“Miss Romanov, what are you doing?” JARVIS asked in a firm tone. “I cannot allow you to enter further without Mister Stark’s express permission.” 

“I’m just grabbing a hoodie Tony borrowed from me. It’s probably in a dirty clothes pile.” She probably lied, not breaking her stride and heading straight towards a closed door at the end of the hallway.

Clint looked in the doors they passed along the way. There were messes of clothes strewn about on the floor and beds in disarray. He wasn’t sure if they were slobs or someone had lost something and decided to rip up all the rooms. His money was on Loki, and he could not relate to the need to search like that at all.

Nat reached for the handle of the door, but there was the sound of a bolt sliding home. The doors behind them slammed closed, followed by the sounds of them locking. 

“I must insist you wait until you have Mister Stark’s permission. May I leave him a message on your behalf?” JARVIS’s voice was very curt. 

Natasha raised her hands in the air in surrender. “Sorry, JARVIS. Won’t step on your toes. Tell Tony that SHIELD would like an update on those projects he’s working on. That’s it. And to give me back my hoodie.” 

They backed out of the hallway and went back towards the elevator. Despite there only being the two of them and Stark’s AI, the room was definitely cooler than when they had come in. Clint didn’t want robots to be mad at him. He was soft and fleshy, and robots were hard and metal. It was clear who would win in a prolonged war of attrition. They didn’t even need  _ air. _

After a silent elevator ride down, they were back on the street.

_ “That was aggressive for JARVIS,” _ Natasha said in Russian. A look of consternation was on her face as she pulled out her phone and dialed Stark. It went to voicemail. She dialed Lo Vely. It went to voicemail. 

_ “I don’t have a number for Gamora…” _ She looked down at the phone like it was the cause of all her problems.

_ “Maybe they just went on a camping trip? _ ” Clint wondered if he should let her know about the irregularities at Stane’s. Probably. Did he want to deal with Fury? 

“ _ That’s funny. Tell another.” _ Natasha shoved her phone into her pocket, and they stormed off together. Clint may not be angry, but if Nat was angry he would go with Hurricane Natasha, mainly because it was safer to be in the eye of it. 

_ “Is this the kind of thing Stark does?” _

Natasha frowned. _ “Yeah. I guess. He’s a little flighty. Probably got invited to the Monaco Grand Prix or something. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s ditched without a word.”  _

Clint put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  _ “If you don’t hear from them in a day or two, I’ll ask Fury if I can take a look at any surveillance.” _

He really didn’t want to mention it, but since Nat wasn’t fully trusted by certain people, she was likely locked out of a few systems. 

She gave him a small nod and flashed him a sugary sweet smile that she  _ knew _ unsettled him.  _ “Thanks, Clint.”  _

##

“Agents Romanov and Barton have left the Tower and are entering the subway,” came JARVIS’ voice from Stane’s phone. 

“Keep me apprised of their status and arrange for movers and cleaners in the penthouse. I need Tony’s work brought in. Contact R&D and arrange a meeting with the algorithm development team for Thursday,” Stane said from where he was sitting back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. Though he spoke to JARVIS, his eyes were firmly on Gamora. 

“I will update your calendar when the time is set. Is there anything else you require, sir?”

“No.” Stane pressed a button on his phone and the sound stopped. 

Gamora had been escorted from her “room” to Stane’s office nearly an hour ago. He had not spoken or acknowledged her as she reclined on the couch. He merely watched her. His guards were much the same. Hopefully, the Black Widow was safe. She was the only one not under Stane’s thumb.

He reminded her of Thanos on his damned throne. 

“Has JARVIS been yours this entire time?” she asked, tired of the silence. Gamora missed the constant chatter of the Guardians. 

Stane smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yes. We cracked his algorithm within six months of Tony’s death. He’s been a wonderful tool ever since.”

Sitting forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and levelled him with a cold stare. “Since I have heard of Stark, he has been praised for his intellect, but you managed to fool him and turn his servant against him”

“Simply because Tony is smart doesn’t mean I can’t build a team collectively smarter than him to completely rewrite JARVIS in a way that fooled even Tony.”

Gamora pursed her lips and looked at the cracked glass of his window. “Is JARVIS installed anywhere else?”

Stane’s smile grew. “He’s going to be, and very soon.”

“And if anyone looks into JARVIS’ code, it will appear to have been made by Stark, the one you killed, and he would take the majority of the blame.”

“Clever.” He leaned back, making circles on his desk with his index finger. “Tony and Loki can talk big, but you can actually  _ see _ .” 

“And you work with the government…” She cocked her head to the side, the implant at the back of her head hurting as it stretched the skin. “A coup?”

“Not that far. We will use him to scrape information from any system, send it to our private servers, and take advantage of anything we find useful.” 

Gamora rolled her eyes. “Your planet seems to run on subterfuge.”

“Right now, it’s all we have.” Stane stood up, cracking his back. “Wars used to be fought with guns, bombs,  _ weapons _ . Now, though, war is information. I miss the old days before the damn Soviets. When we had the best weapons, the best scientists, the best resources. Then it became an arms race. Miserable business, that Cold War.”

Soviets? Temperature-related war? These had only been mentioned in one of the films she had watched, and she had forgotten to look it up later for context. Terrans. At this point, Gamora knew he wasn’t really talking to her, merely preaching his beliefs in a way that was reminiscent of Thanos, but lacking the sheer control her father held over the situation.

He lit the end of a brown cylindrical tub aflame and puffed on it. “We used to make the largest and best weapons. The experiments and research we did were sublime, and then, it all faded away. Good weapons still came out, but they were for small engagements. Nothing big. Not until Loki attacked. Now, we have someone to fight against, someone to protect ourselves from. Still a bit of infighting between nations, but with enough time living under constant threat, we will usher in a new order for the ages.” 

Gamora bit back a yawn. 

“Tell me about Thanos.” 

She flinched. She did not like hearing her father's name come from his lips. She did not like hearing his name at all.

“Tell me about the creature who killed you, Tony, Loki, and the robot,” he said, smiling coldly. “Loki gave the Avengers a good fight—could have subjugated humanity—and Thanos just snapped their neck.” Stane snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Gamora clenched her jaw, anger blooming inside her. “No.” She would not tell Stane about her father.

“You saw what happened to Loki.”

She bit down the urge to reach back and touch the shaved area of skin and the freshly sutured wound. Stane had brought her in to see his holocall with Tony and Loki and to show off what that thing in the back of her head could do and why she couldn’t simply kill him. It would kill them all. “I have suffered far worse than you can impart on me.”

“So be it.” He held up his phone, ready to press down, when he paused. Gamora heard him mutter something about flies and honey. “Maybe not… In time, hopefully, you will have no reservations with telling me. I’m not a bad person, Gamora. Merely someone who wants to protect his corner of the galaxy.”

_ Asshole. _

“You believe I will not have reservations?! You killed this world’s Stark, Tony said you sell weapons to the enemy, you’ve corrupted JARVIS, you kidnapped Loki—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Stane cut her off, holding a finger up. “I did no such thing. Loki came to me, willingly.”

He tapped his phone and Gamora heard Loki’s voice coming from it.  _ “Do you still want to have that logistics meeting?” _

Stane’s voice came from the phone. The man himself, however… His eyes rested on Gamora with a smug, little smile.  _ “Of course. I can send a driver to pick you up now, if you wish.” _

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. “ _ Give it twenty minutes. Stark and Gamora have just left.”  _

Gamora’s stomach turned. She knew very little about Loki’s true character except what the others had said. Loki had attempted to conquer Earth, Loki had tried to kill their brother, Loki couldn’t be trusted, and now, Loki had gone behind their backs to meet with Stark’s enemy. Had she fallen back into her old ways? Was Stark in danger? 

“...What did Loki want?” 

“To make a deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice: For the last month we've been going through chapters one through ten. We're going to update all of them on Saturday. There's no major changes to plot. Just tightening up some of the scenes, fixing tone issues, clarifying stuff, rewording some words that needed rewording.
> 
> If y'all want to leave us feedback but don't know what to say exactly here's this lil chart if you want to just toss some of these emotes in the comments! ty all for reading and kudosing and commenting 😘
> 
> 💞 = I loved this!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> ✒️ = thanks for the update!  
> 🍵 = holy exposition batman  
> 💫 = freaking plot twist!  
> ✍️ = get on the next chapter plz!  
> 🤕 = this was hurt, where's comfort?  
> 🤯 = shooketh  
> 😠 = god damn cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyy???!!!  
> 💯 = eri is amazing (she is)


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